Halo 2: Redder Than Ever
by Xorncon - Number 0
Summary: After destroying a giant ring-world capable of destroying a galaxy, Sarge, Donut, Simmons, and Grif return to Earth for some rest and relaxation. Unfortunately the Covenant show up to Earth, and causes a domino affect that throws this team back in action.
1. Armor, Awards, and Aliens

"There was only one ship," a deep voice said. There were rows of Elites wearing funny looking hats, standing at attention. At the end of the rows was a golden Elite facing two old looking aliens in floating chairs.

"One, are you sure?"

"Uh…" The golden Elite looked up, placing a hand to his split chin. "Yes, only one. They called it Pillar of Autumn."

"Why was it not destroyed with the rest of their fleet," an angry old alien questioned.

"It fled," the Elite explained. "As we set fire to their planet, and I followed with all the ships in my command."

"When you first saw Halo, were you blinded by its majesty," the holographic old alien asked.

"Uh…no I could see very clearly. It was a giant planet like ring thing that we worship."

"No, no that's not what I meant," the holographic floater snapped. "Were you paralyzed or dumbstruck?"

"No," the Elite replied, questioning the old man's reasoning.

"And yet the humans were able to evade your ships, land on the Sacred Ring, and desecrate it with their filthy footsteps! Seriously, how hard is to stop a bunch of humans? They're idiotic apes!" A large white haired ape stood off to the side, looked down at the ground awkwardly. "Um, present company excluded of course."

"Thanks," the monkey replied.

"Noble Hierarchs, surely you understand that once the parasite attacked-,"

The council members of Elites and old aliens, known as Prophets, all started muttering with rage. Everyone went quite when a really old floating alien wearing the biggest crown this side of the queen of England came up.

"You were right to focus your attention on the Flood," the prophet stated. "But these Demons, this Red Team…"

"By the time I discovered the idiots' intent…there was nothing I could do."

The Prophet council members rose to their feet, screaming racial comments towards the Elite. The Elite council looked to each other and muttered while others were fast asleep. Off in the corner, the white haired ape, or Brute, chuckled coldly with amusement.

"Noble Prophet of Truth, make an example of this split chin salamander, the council demands it!" Truth held up his hand and like a bitch, Regret went silent.

"You are one of our most treasured instruments. Long have you lead your fleet with honor and distinction. But your inability to safeguard Halo…was a colossal failure."

"Nay, it was heresy," a Prophet shouted as he shot to his feet.

"Come on," the Elite snapped. "It's not like _I_ blew it up!" The Councilors all started shouted amongst each other. "I _will_ continue my campaign against the humans!"

"No," Truth shouted. "You shall not." Truth motioned toward the white Brute, Tartarus. The Brute barked at two normal looking monkeys who approached the Elite. "Soon, the Great Journey shall begin." One of the Brutes grabbed the Elite's arm, but was quickly shaken off. "But when it does, the weight of your heresy shall stain your feet." The Elite was escorted out by two Brutes and their chieftain Tartarus. "And you shall be left behind…"

* * *

On a distant planet, light-years away from the Covenant, a few UNSC ships flew by on a space station that looked like a giant gun. Inside the gun space station, a human gunnery sergeant stormed into the armory.

"God damn it you all," he shouted. "Your plating was about to fail, there's viscosity in the gel layer!"

"Donut," a thick southern accent shouted. "How many times have I told you NOT to use lotion in your armor!"

"I can't help it Sarge, the armor chaffs my thighs! This new armor is much better. It's so flexible and doesn't require me to stretch out my hammies before I get in."

"Well, I guess it was all obsolete anyway. Your alls new suits are a Mark VI, just came up from Songnam this morning. Try and take it easy until you're use to the upgrades."

Sarge turned to the orange Spartan who was lounging about, watching TV. The Red commander kicked Grif in the side of the head, causing him to cry out with pain and fall on his side.

"OW!"

"Hey, what're you-,"

"Armor works just fine," Sarge said, cutting the gunnery sergeant off.

"Hey, what's all this extra stuff," Simmons asked. "I don't think I've seen this tech before."

"Oh those are just some special upgrades I got ya'll for combat. They're armor upgrades and each of your suits has a special ability. Grif, you have an armor lock feature that allows you to become temporarily invincible."

"Really," Grif questioned. The orange Spartan kneeled down and punched the ground, covered by a special shield and he didn't budge a bit. Sarge ran up and kicked Grif in the face, but it felt like kicking a cement wall.

"YEOW!"

"Sweet," Grif exclaimed. "How do I unlock it?"

"How should I know," the gunnery sergeant shouted angrily.

"Hey, this isn't cool! I want to move and stuff! Oh this isn't good!"

"Simmons," the sergeant continued. "You can project holographic copies of yourself out into battle to confuse and distract your opponents."

"Oh sweet."

"Not really, they become self conscious after a few minutes so don't drag it out too long. Donut can drop a barrier that heals and rejuvenates your team since we don't use medical kits anymore. And Sarge, you've got a…"

"YEAH-HA-HA," Sarge laughed as he flew around at full speed all through the armory. The Red commander activated his jetpack as soon as he heard the word. His flying and swooping caused the gunnery sergeant, Simmons, and Donut all to hit the ground. "You knew just what I wanted! Aside from a dead Grif!"

"God damn it, you're screwin up my armory! Turn it off ya idiot!" Sarge slowed down and hovered in the air, looking at his jetpack without deactivating it.

"I've never heard of Spartan-II soldiers getting these," Simmons stated. "I thought they were only for the Spartan-III soldiers."

"Simmons," Sarge shouted, "Our armor is the most advanced armor ever constructed by the UNSC! If the low-tech Spartan III soldiers could support this type of tech, then what kind of topsy-turvy world would we live in when more advanced armor couldn't have the same technology that the primitive Spartan III armor had?"

"Well maybe if the game designers-,"

"Simmons! Stow that remark!" The Red commander deactivated his jetpack, planting both feet on the ground firmly. Sarge looked back over his shoulder, admiring his new toy. "I've always wanted one. Who ordered it for me?"

"Me of course," a gruff and tough voice replied. Everyone, except Grif, turned their heads, seeing Sergeant Johnson walking in, wearing a slick and formal white shirt. "I remember you told me you wanted a jetpack, so there ya go."

"Sarge," the Red commander said to Johnson with a tearful tone. "I can't thank you enough. But if you were getting gifts then why didn't you-,"

"Grif is still a soldier of the UNSC, and after Reach, we could use all the Spartans we can get, even if they only kill a Grunt or two. Why does he have his fist in the ground?"

"The idiot activated his armor lock and doesn't know how to unlock it," the gunnery sergeant replied.

"Well, drag him on the elevator," Johnson ordered. "We can't keep Lord Hood waiting all day." Simmons and Donut both got behind Grif and started pushing him.

"Damn it Grif, I said to watch your weight," Simmons groaned.

"Hey, find a diet that works for me and I'll lose weight!"

"I have you a whole list of diets," Donut grunted. "What'd you do with it?"

"Used it as a napkin…" The three Reds finally got onto the elevator as Johnson and Sarge walked on casually.

"How's my helmet," Sarge asked Johnson as the elevator doors closed.

"Alright, so do you all know how this is gonna work," Johnson asked. "We walk in, some marines start cheering for us because we're just that amazing, then we enter a room with a bunch of admirals, generals, all sorts of high up ranks. Lord Hood is going to present us with medals, you accept them."

"What the fuck, where are we supposed to put medals," Grif asked. "We're wearing armor, it's not like we can just pin them onto our nice cloth made shirts."

"Shut up Grif," Sarge snapped. "I brought my box of medals." Sarge reached back and pulled out a small box that put most jewelry boxes that boyfriends got their spouses to shame. Sarge opened it, revealing dozens of various medals.

"Whoa," Donut exclaimed.

"Amazing sir," Simmons added.

"Yep, I've got just about every medal there is in ass kicking and degrading my soldiers there is. Except Sergeant Johnson's medal of revolutionized ass-kicking!"

"That's a tough one kid," Johnson stated. "They named the medal after me and it took me quite awhile to get it."

"Wait, how does that make any sense," Simmons questioned. Just then, Grif shot up, yelping with shock. The orange Spartan shook his head clear.

"Great, I'm back," he exclaimed.

"Good," Sarge replied before punching him across the face as hard as possible. Grif cried out and fell to the floor while Sarge simply shook his fist loose. The Reds turned around, seeing a few dozen marines applauding and cheering for them. "Men, make sure the cameras catch your good side!"

"Yes sir," Simmons replied, eager to serve any order Sarge gave him.

"Fuck that hurt," Grif muttered as he slowly rose to his feet.

"I was told there weren't going to be cameras," Donut fussed, "I didn't even dress up or anything."

"Folks need a hero er…four, Donut," Johnson stated as he approached the door, pressing the open button. "So smile will ya? While we still got something to smile about!" The door opened and Johnson and the Reds entered through a very bright, white light for some reason.

* * *

Back with that golden Elite at the beginning of this chapter, he was walking forward with the two Brutes behind him. On the sides were Elite honor guards acting as security. Tartarus was already at the end of a ledge, enticing a crowd of thousands of Grunts, Jackals, and Hunters. As the Brutes approached and put the bindings on the Elite's wrists, Tartarus turned around.

"You've drawn quite a crowd," the chieftain stated.

"If they came to hear me beg," the Elite began, "then tell them all to FUCK OFF!" The crowd booed and shouted to kill the heretic.

"Well, that's enough for me," Tartarus stated before waved his hand up. Two beams of energy struck the Elite's armor, causing him to shake and twitch with pain.

* * *

Back towards Earth, the Reds and Johnson entered the MAC gun's bridge where many more officers wearing white applauded and cheered for them. The group approached the man in front, Lord Hood, and saluted him.

Hood returned the gesture, "Gentlemen, we're lucky to have you back." A random officer whispered to Hood who nodded then turned to a small pedestal. "Go ahead Cortana." A familiar purple avatar, but with longer hair, popped up.

"Another whisper sir, near IO, we have probes in route."

"I'm sorry but we're going to have to make this quick." Hood turned around to grab the medals. Cortana turned to the two sergeants and smiled.

"You look nice," she said with a smile.

"Thanks," Sarge and Johnson replied simultaneously. The two exchanged looks between one another before looking back to Lord Hood.

"Sergeant Major, the Colonial Cross is awarded for acts of singular daring and devotion, for a soldier of the United Earth Space Corps…"

* * *

"There can be no greater heresy," Tartarus shouted to the crowd. "Let him be an example to all who would break our Covenant!" The crowd cheered, calling for blood.

"Split his chin even more," a Grunt shouted.

"Serve the squid face on some calamari," another shouted.

Tartarus turned his head then barked to his two Brutes. They looked at each other and to the Elite whose armor was now charred. He looked to the two monkeys like he wasn't just burned to a crisp. The Brutes quickly grabbed the Elite's chest plate and pulled it off.

* * *

Back on the Cario space station, a young woman walked up next to Sarge and Johnson. "Who's that," Grif asked in a whisper.

"How should I know," Simmons snapped, keeping his voice down. "Probably some bitch who got her rank from blowing her commanding officers." Grif and Simmons chuckled to themselves.

"Commander Miranda Keyes," Lord Hood said loudly.

"Keyes," Grif and Simmons shouted. Sarge, Johnson, Miranda, and Hood all looked over towards their direction.

"As in Captain Keyes," Grif asked.

"That's me," Miranda replied, her tone questioning Grif's intelligence. "Captain Jacob Keyes was my dad."

"Can you shut the hell up now Grif," Sarge snapped.

"Thank you Sarge," Miranda said with a smile.

"Not a problem ma'am."

"Yeah, just wait until she finds out you broke her father's face," Grif muttered.

"As I was saying: Commander Miranda Keyes, your father's actions were in keeping of the highest traditions in military service. His bravery in the face of impossible odds reflects great credit, upon himself, and the UNSC. The Navy has lost one of its finest." Hood handed her a medal which she took with a solemn nod.

* * *

Back in High Charity, a naked Elite hung loosely after a savage beating from the Brutes. A glowing brand came up and Tartarus took it in his hand and stepped forward. The Elite looked up, raising his eyebrow muscle curiously. Tartarus huffed and narrowed his eyes curiously.

"I said if they want to hear me beg, then they can fuck off…and they're going to be disappointed…"

"I'll soon change that," Tartarus snapped bitterly.

"Bring it bitch!" The Elite snapped its mandibles at the Brute, causing him to pull his head back a bit with shock. Tartarus growled then slammed the brand against the Elite's bare skin. The Elite kept his mandibles shut, trying not to give in. As Tartarus started twisting the brand slightly, making sure it burned within the Elite, he threw his head back. Tartarus grinned, knowing he was going to scream in pain.

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" Tartarus chuckled and removed the brand, holding it out for one of his Brute flunkies to take it. The Elite lowered his head, staring directly at the white haired Brute. "Hey, you." One of the Brutes pointed to himself with a dumb expression on his face. "Yeah, what's you're name?"

"Frank," the Brute replied.

"Hey Frank, can you tell Tartarus, I think his grandmother was here trying to work me over." The Elite honor guards chuckled quietly, trying to keep their composure. Tartarus growled then socked him across the face.

"Finish him," Tartarus ordered. The two Brutes approached the Elite, cracking their knuckles.

"Oh, are you Tartarus' sisters? Cause all of you Brutes look the same: UGLY AS HELL! And your mothers look like males! And they have hairy knuckles!"

"Thank you," Frank replied. The second Brute punched Frank one the barked something. The two Brutes then started to wail on the Elite's body.

* * *

Back on Cario, Lord Hood had made it to the Red Team. "Private Franklin Delano Donut, the medal of Paula Dean is awarded to those who manage to make even the grimmest of situations into a French themed tea party involving human and Covenant alike…even if the aliens were to be killed by Sarge two minutes later." The Red commander let out a few quiet chuckles. "And the medal of Ewww, Sticky is awarded to those who can stick an enemy with fragmentation grenade."

"I just wrapped it in chewing gum," Donut said cheerfully. Hood held the medals out to the pink Spartan. "Um…sir, not to be disrespectful, but can you send those medals to my wife?"

"WIFE," Simmons and Grif repeated, nearly falling over with shock.

"Yeah, Tiffany," Donut stated, "Have you guys met her? I know Sarge has."

"Yep, went over there for the team evaluation. Donut, tell your wife that I'd love to get the recipe for her strawberry shortcake!"

"Sarge, you know it's her family recipe," Donut replied.

"What the hell," Grif snapped. "Donut has a wife."

"And twelve kids," Sarge added.

"TWELVE," Simmons repeated.

"Good lord," Grif shrieked.

"Sarge, we only have ten kids. Twins eleven and twelve are on their way!" Donut turned back to Hood, who had a slight look of annoyance. "Oh, sorry sir."

"It's okay Donut," Hood assured. "I'll have these sent to your family right away."

"Thank you sir." Hood turned around and handed the medals to another officer who threw them into a brown envelop with bubble wrap for protection. "Private Dexter Grif, we don't have a medal for your laziness and incompetence and continuing disrespect for your superior officers, so I'll just give you this kick in the nuts." Hood thrusted his foot up, nailing Grif in the crotch. Grif groaned and fell onto his knees.

"Ow…"

"However, we do have this gold medal for being the winner in the UNSC eating contest." Hood knelt down and placed the medal in Grif's hand.

"Thank you sir," Grif muttered with a meek voice before groaning again.

"Private First Class Dick Simmons, the Brown Nose medal is awarded to those who have such low self-esteem that they blindly follow any order and worship their superior officer with fanatical devotion." Hood placed the medal in Simmons' hand.

"Sir, thank you sir, you look very nice today sir, I appreciate the medal sir, thank you so much sir, are those new shoes sir?" Hood shook his head then approached Sarge.

"Sergeant um…" Hood looked towards Johnson, the only person who knew Sarge better than anyone.

"Hey, I called him 'Maggot' in Sergeant School," Johnson replied. "I don't even know his real name, and I looked through his record."

"Sarge," Lord Hood continued. "The medal of Incomprehensible Violence is awarded to those that…well commit various crimes of incomprehensible violence. The medal of Ass Kicking is awarded to…well all of these medals basically say why they're awarded." Hood handed over two more medals to Sarge.

"Alright, when I retire I'm gonna have to have two refrigerators to put on all these medals on!" Suddenly alarms started going off.

"Slipspace ruptures directly off our battle cluster," Cortana stated.

"Show me," Hood ordered. There were images on the screen of Covenant ships, and a UNSC fleet heading towards them.

"_This is Fleet Admiral Harper, we are engaging the enemy!"_

"Bitch, I know you're not doing something without my orders," Hood shouted. "Form a defensive perimeter around the cluster." Hood turned to Miranda. "Commander get to your ship, link up with the fleet."

"Yes sir," Miranda replied with a quick solute then she was gone.

"You're got the MAC gun Cortana, as soon as they come into range, open up!"

"Ooh," Sarge said. "A women with the biggest, most destructive gun in the world. Now _that_ I find sexy." The three Red soldiers looked over at their commanding officer quizzically.

"Well you'd better hurry up, otherwise you might miss the fireworks." Cortana winked before her avatar disappeared.

"Sarge, were you just flirting with an AI," Grif asked.

"Well I would've flirted with your mother, but I can't since you were the horrible byproduct at a turd manufacturing plant!"

"Sir," an officer shouted. "Additional contacts, boarding crafts and lots of em!"

"Ah those dick-heads," Hood muttered. "Red Team, defend this station!"

"Yes sir," Sarge shouted. The Red commander punched Grif directly in the face, causing him to cry out and fall to the ground. "I need a weapon," Sarge told Johnson.

"Right this way," the human sergeant replied with a sinisterly happy tone.


	2. Pop Goes the Space Station

The Reds were all getting geared up for a fight. Donut grabbed an assault rifle and pistol, Simmons grabbed a battle rifle and SMG, Sarge grabbed his signature shotgun and a pair of SMGs while Grif simply lied down on a crate, attempting to take a nap. Sarge muttered then walked up and kicked Grif off the crate, causing him to scream with fright and fall to the steel floor below.

"Ow…"

"Wake up ya big orange baby! We've got a station to defend!"

"Can't you guys do that without me? Seriously, how hard is it for three Spartans to defend _one_ station?"

"I don't know Grif, how hard is it for you to hold a full round of shotgun bullets in your face?" Grif groaned then slowly got to his feet, grabbing a pistol and SMG before following his team.

The Reds met a group of three marines, and Johnson with a turret set up and aimed at the door. "Feel the fire on that bulkhead!" The group saw fire leaking through the door. Sarge and Donut crouched behind cover. Simmons stood behind a terminal thing, while Grif lied on the ground behind cover. "As soon as that door opens, let em have it!"

"You heard the man," Sarge shouted, quickly running over then kicking Grif in the stomach. The napping Spartan cried out then whined, holding his stomach as Sarge quickly ran back for his cover.

The door, instead of opening, exploded outward. Johnson fired into the flames and smoke as dozens and dozens of Grunts ran through the doorway. The marines fired as well, mowing down the Grunts with ease. Sarge and Simmons also fired into the crowd, while Donut lobbed a grenade or two. Grif poked his head up, and nearly laughed with what he saw: an unlimited number of Grunts running and dying to their doom.

"Oh shit, even I can handle this!" Grif popped out of cover then pulled the trigger. The lazy Spartan looked to his gun then kept hearing the same clicking noise over and over again. "What the hell?"

"Grif, why is your gun out of ammunition," Sarge asked as he reloaded his SMGs.

"I don't know! This stupid gun is a piece of shit!" Grif looked up, just as a pair of Grunts rushed at him.

"Get some bitch," the Grunt screamed as he leapt onto Grif. The two Grunts started punching Grif in the face, gut, and nuts. A marine moved to help Grif, but was held back by Sarge.

"No, let him be," Sarge replied. "This is the most enjoyable thing since Donut practiced his crouching on Grif's face."

The wave of Grunts had died down, and four Elites made their way onto the scene. Johnson quickly took one out with his turret. Sarge started unloading into one with his dual wielded weapons, but the alien quickly took cover. A third Elite grabbed the body of the Elite that Johnson killed, and used it as a human meat shield.

"Oh come on," Simmons shouted. "They can't do that! It's cheating!"

"Blarg…honk!" Translation: "I've been playing Gears of War 2…honk!"

"Donut, initiate bowling ball maneuver!"

"I'm on it sir!" Donut jumped out of cover with a grenade, pin pulled, in hand. He inched up on his tip-toes then rolled the grenade across the floor, towards the Elite using his comrade's corpse as a shield. The Elite watched as the grenade rolled towards him, between the corpses' and his legs before looking up.

"Blarg…"

The grenade blew up, reducing both Elites into chunks of meat and purple blood that splattered all over the walls. Sarge laughed and threw in a 'blamo' before he rushed forward with his shotgun towards the remaining two Elites.

One Elite had gunned down one of the two marines before he looked over, seeing Sarge rush towards him. Before the alien could counter, Sarge threw his shoulder into the Elite, knocking him to the ground. Sarge aimed the shotgun at the alien's head, only to be pulled back and thrown by the second Elite. Sarge cried out before hitting the ground. Simmons ran forward, shooting burst after burst of his battle rifle at the alien pair. One Elite ducked under three bullets then threw its arm out, knocking Simmons' feet out from under him, causing him to face plant into the ground. The second alien kicked Simmons in the stomach, throwing him back next to Sarge.

"This is pathetic," Johnson screamed.

"I'm out of practice," Sarge weakly replied.

Johnson ripped his gun turret from the ground, then started firing at the alien pair. One Elite took cover while the second one threw a plasma grenade which stuck to the turret. Johnson threw the turret high above his head. It exploded harmlessly in the air. Johnson strode forward, firing his battle rifle at the alien not in cover. Its shields were lowered and it moved for cover. Johnson then threw his gun spinning up in the air, caught it, and then hurled it forward like a spear. The long barrel of the battle rifle stuck into the side of the Elite's head. The alien fell over on its side in a lifeless heap, purple liquid oozing from its head. The second Elite stared wide eyed in shock before looking back at Johnson who was still walking forward, now only with a pistol. The Elite popped out of cover, aiming its plasma rifle. Johnson fired a round, knocking the weapon out of the Elite's hand. The alien stared with wide eyes again before pulling out a sword.

Johnson huffed, sticking a lighted cigar in his mouth. The Elite rushed forward, raising its sword high above its head. Johnson side-stepped as the alien swung downward, missing him by a mile. Johnson grabbed the alien's wrist, spun around, pulling its arm around the back of its head. The alien cried out with pain before Johnson fired a pistol round into the Elite's hand, causing it to drop its sword as blood squirted out. Johnson released the alien's wrist, and the Elite quickly swung its arm backward. Johnson ducked under the strike then fired a round into the alien's crotch. The Elite howled with pain, holding its crotch before it kneeled down. Johnson pistol-whipped the Elite across the face once, and then twice. The human twirled the gun around before swinging upward with all his might. The Elite was lifted off the ground nearly a foot before landing on its neck with a sickening snap. Johnson twirled his pistol again before holstering it and turning to the reds who were staring in shock.

"That's how it's done," Johnson said with a cocky smirk on his face. Donut looked over, seeing Grif still getting pounded by Grunts then turned back to Sarge.

"Shouldn't we help him?"

"What? Oh yeah, sure, someone help him." Donut walked over then simply popped each Grunt in the skull.

"Are you okay Grif," Donut asked.

"My nuts…"

"I could shoot them," Johnson suggested.

"Done," Sarge exclaimed. Grif quickly shot up.

"You know, I'm feeling a lot better actually." The two sergeants exchanged glances they walked off. Grif winced with pain before limping after his superior officers.

The Spartans fought their way through the station until they got into a hanger which had a group of marines on the high ground, firing down at a group of Covenant soldiers that entered through a pair of boarding crafts. Sarge flew around the hanger like a teenager getting his first porno magazine as he blasted Covenant from above and at all angles using his jetpack. Grif swung at an Elite who sidestepped, causing the orange Spartan to stumble. The Elite roared then swung at Grif. The orange Spartan activated his armor lock in a terrified position. The Elite's hand broke over the Spartan's armor, causing him to yelp and shake his hand with pain. Grif released the armor lock, tossed a grenade high above his head, then activated the armor lock again. The Elite watched as the grenade plummeted to the ground, bounced off of Grif's helmet then exploded in his face. The Elite's upper body was reduced to giant chunks of bloody meat, while Grif remained unharmed in his locked up armor.

"Sweet," Grif exclaimed. "I could get use to this feature!" Grif's armor unlocked. Sarge swooped down and smacked the end of his gun in Grif's face. The orange Spartan spun around then fell to the ground, "Ouchie!"

"Ha-ha, Red Team!" Sarge did a neat back flip then landed on top of a Grunt, killing the tiny alien. "Is that it?"

"Looks like it Sarge," a British marine called out.

"Sir, I finished healing all the injured people," Donut replied from within his healing bubble, and no, that's not a therapy reference. "I even discovered I can heal dying people too! Granted it doesn't bring them back to life, but at least they'll look nice for their funeral without all those plasma burns and stuff right?"

"Excellent work Donut," Sarge said with a nod of approval. "Where is Simmons anyway?"

"Right here sir," Simmons called out. "I was just making sure all of the automated turrets worked."

"They have automated turrets in this place," Grif asked.

"Of course Grif, this place is one of Earth's main defenses, they wouldn't NOT put automated turrets in this place for defense. That's just stupid."

"Then what the hell do they need us running around and killing aliens for?"

"Because the turrets, unlike you, are next to worthless," Sarge yelled.

"Wow Sarge, I can't believe you went out of your way not to insult me," Grif muttered.

"Don't get teary eyed on me yet butterscotch. I said the turrets were next to worthless, but you're COMPLETELY worthless!"

"Thanks Sarge," Grif replied sarcastically.

"Seriously, what did you do that entire battle? I took out nearly a third of the entire Covenant forces by myself, and the marines took out the rest! All you did was kill an Elite. Hell, Donut even healed wounded soldiers."

"Well Simmons was playing on the computer," Grif snapped.

"Hey, I control these turrets, if I want, I could have them shoot you."

"Go ahead, my armor lock can protect me from anything! A grenade just blew up in my face and I don't even have a scratch to show for it."

"_Uh, ladies,"_ Cortana's voice replied through the Reds' radios. _"Look outside…"_ All eyes looked outside the window, seeing the two other MAC guns exploding.

"Wha-oh," Sarge muttered.

"That's not good," Simmons added. "That explosion came from—AGH!" Simmons fell to his knees as a high pitched siren went off in his head.

"_I want to say it,"_ the AI snapped. _"That explosion came from inside the Athens and the Malta. The Covenant must've brought something with them…a bomb."_

"So, those space stations are already gone," Grif replied. "Nothing we can do about it now."

"Unless they brought one here," Donut said. The Reds looked to each other then immediately bolted to the nearest exit.

The Reds somehow found their way beneath the armory that they started out in. Sarge's visor lit up as he heard the all too familiar ring of a shotgun. "Get the hell out of my armory split-lip!" The Gunnery Sergeant ducked under plasma fire then blasted his shotgun. "Tell your friends I got enough ammo for all of ya'll!" Once again, the Gunnery Sergeant ducked for cover and fired. "Come on is this a gun of a flashlight! Oh dangit!" The Gunnery Sergeant was gunned down, leaving his shotgun lying by his body.

"Dibs!" Sarge quickly ran into the armor from below, startling the two Elites before he grabbed the shotgun. "Hey, can you do me a favor and hold these bullets?" Sarge fired a round of his shotgun at one of the Elites. The alien cried out and held his stomach as he kneeled down before falling on his side, now dead. "Hey thanks! You make a fine bullet-gut-holder." The second Elite growled then rushed forward. "And you just got," Sarge blasted the Elite's head off, "Sarged!"

"Excellent one liners sir," Simmons replied, standing behind his superior officer.

"I know," Sarge said with pride. "Let's keep moving! That bomb won't find itself now will it?"

"It'd save me a load of trouble," Grif murmured under his breath.

The Reds continued on, hearing gunfire in the next room. Sarge rushed in to help, Simmons and Donut following behind him. If anything, Grif started to walk slower, throwing in an unnecessary yawn as well.

"Come on boy," Johnson shouted to Sarge, "This way!" Sarge dove behind cover next to Johnson while Donut and Simmons laid down covering fire. Simmons knelt down next to a pair of Sergeants, while Donut crouched next to Miranda.

"I was almost on board when _they_ showed up," the commander said.

"Who, Grif? I can kill him if it'll help."

"What? No, the Covenant."

"Oh," Sarge replied, looking at the group of aliens firing at him. "You sure it's not Grif?"

"Yes, yes I'm sure!"

"Don't worry ma'am," Johnson shouted, "We're on it!" Grif screamed when he turned the corner, running and diving for cover next to Johnson. "I'm gonna have to borrow your boy here."

"He's not a boy: he's a turd!" Johnson grabbed Grif then lifted the Spartan up effortlessly.

"Go into armor lock," the sergeant ordered.

"Do wha-AAAAT?" Johnson hurled Grif forward as straight as an arrow. Grif's arms flailed about before he shielded his face and activated his armor lock. The Spartan flew through the Grunts and Elites, knocking them off their feet, breaking bones, and even decapitating one Grunt. Grif smashed and slid against the ground, sparks flying from under his body. The armor lock deactivated and Grif sighed out with relief as his limbs went numb.

"Donut, bombard those Covenant bastards right now," Johnson barked.

"You got it sir!" Donut stood up from cover and started throwing grenades into the Covenant forces. The aliens hardly had time to react before they were soon blown to bits. "That's all of them. You want me to mop up the mess too Sergeant Johnson?"

"Hey it's my job to kiss the superior ass around here," Simmons snapped with a venomous tone. The maroon Spartan's tone lightened as he turned to Johnson, "Would you like Donut to mop up the mess sir?"

"I'll mop the floor with your faces if you don't get a move on," Johnson snapped. "Find that bomb damn it!" Sarge and Simmons rushed forward, but Donut was stopped by Miranda.

"Thanks Donut…I owe you one." The commander winked before letting a dumbfounded Donut continue forward.

"Come on Grif," Simmons shouted, dragging the unconscious Spartan by his foot. "We're almost at the bomb!"

"But I don't wanna," Grif whined. The Reds were in a sealed off airlock. Sarge opened the doors outside, then grabbed Grif and threw him out. "WAAAAAH! NO I DON'T WANNA DIE!" Grif's arms started flailing wildly while the rest of the team watched the pitiful sight, shaking their heads disapprovingly.

"Donut, initiate male bonding strategy," Sarge ordered.

"Huh," Donut asked. Sarge turned his head then pointed to Grif. "Oh sorry Sarge, my mind was focused on…something else." Donut leapt forward, floating slowly towards Grif before he grabbed the Spartan and hugged him tightly. "It's okay Grif, in space there's no gravity so you can float instead of fall."

"Really," Grif asked, still with a terror stricken voice as he looked down. "Oh hey, I'm floating! I'm just like Peter Pan!"

"Yeah, a woman who looks like a boy," Sarge replied, leaping forward and striking Grif across the face.

"OW! Hey!" Sarge slowly descended to the ground and landed smoothly.

"Come on men, we have to move through this room to get to where the bomb is!"

"Hey, since there's no gravity, why don't we just go OVER the room and straight to wherever we need to go," Grif asked, landing softly behind Sarge.

"That's an excellent idea! Way to go Donut!"

"Thank you sir," the pink Spartan replied.

"DONUT! What the hell, I suggested it!"

"No you didn't, not unless you like to wear pink armor. Which then raises the question: what else do you wear that's pink?"

"So you're saying Donut wears more than just pink armor?"

"Well I do," Donut admitted proudly.

"Shut up Donut," Grif snapped.

"Let's move," Sarge ordered, using his jetpack to fly over the station. Grif sighed then jumped after his commander, followed by Simmons then Donut. "Oh this isn't good…" Sarge looked ahead, seeing six Elites with jetpacks flying towards him and his leaping team. Sarge pulled out a battle rifle then fired a burst of bullets. Unfortunately, the bullets went less than a foot forward before floating up through the air harmlessly. "Curse you Isaac Newton!" Plasma fire whizzed by Sarge who deactivated his jetpack then fell to the ground in front of his squad. "We need a plan of action that allows us to kill these Elites without gravity."

"We could run," Grif suggested.

"Absolutely not," Sarge barked.

"I think running would be a smart idea," Simmons replied.

"Excellent idea Simmons!"

Grif sighed, "I hate my life…"

"Now, they need to be distracted…GRIF!"

"No," the orange Spartan snapped.

"I need you to run out there and do the chicken dance to distract those Elites! And while that's going on, I'll carry Simmons and Donut to the exit and we'll deactivate the bomb…and then place it in your quarters and reactivate it. BLAMO!" Suddenly, a loud boom was heard, followed by the ground shaking and a screech of metal. The Reds turned around to see an entire column of the station shoot up suddenly, throwing the Elites into the empty vacuum of space, drifting along harmlessly.

"_Now, if you all are done,"_ Cortana said over the radio, _"Go stop that bomb!"_

"You heard the lady!" Sarge sprung forward with his team following behind him. The group made it to an elevator that closed and went downward.

"_Just so you know, there are quite a few Elites guarding the bomb, you may need to get creative."_

"Alright, Donut and I will take out the Covenant," Sarge said, "And Simmons, you and Grif go deactivate the bomb. Got it?"

"Uh, sir I'm not too familiar with Covenant technology and-," The doors opened, and Sarge and Donut rushed out, screaming with guns blazing. "Son of a bitch. Come on Grif, let's go see if we can stop a bomb."

"Why the hell am I helping you with technological stuff?"

Sarge stuck the barrel of his shotgun in the chest of an Elite then pulled the trigger. A giant hole was formed in the center of the alien as he fell over lifelessly. Sarge then threw his shotgun in the air, grabbing it by the barrel before he spun around, smashing the butt of the gun into the skulls of Grunts that tried to surround him. Sarge swung his gun upward, knocking a Grunt up into the air, only for its tiny body to be impaled by one of the spikes on the bomb. Donut ducked under an Elite's strike, firing a few rounds of his SMG into its stomach. The pink Spartan pushed the Elite back then turned around, blocking a second Elite's strike and head butting it in the face. The Elite staggered back, holding its face in pain. Donut turned around then lashed his gun across the first Elite's face. The alien spun around and put one of its hands out to stop itself. Unfortunately, the Elite's hand went right through one of the spikes on the bomb. The alien cried out in pain, only for Donut to kick it in the back, pushing the rest of its body through the spikes. Donut spun around as the second Elite tried to attack him. Donut screamed as he pushed the alien away from the bomb as Simmons and Grif finally got to it.

"Oh yeah, just throw alien bodies against the freaking bomb we know nothing about," Simmons screamed. "That won't kill us at all! How does this fucking thing work!"

"Come on Simmons, figure it out!"

"I'm trying cock-bite!" Simmons frantically looked at the bomb, but found no obvious 'off' switch. "This thing is nothing but spikes! What the hell am I supposed to do!"

Sarge blasted a hole in another Elite, just as a silver one jumped down from above, slamming its weapon in the back of the Spartan's head. Sarge cried out and stumbled forward as Cortana's avatar appeared on a pedestal near the bomb.

"Me, inside you're head, now!" Sarge spun around, dragging his hand through Cortana's avatar. His hand glowed as Cortana downloaded into his armor. Sarge stopped himself against the bomb, placing his hand directly over the flashing red light.

"Oh come on! It was that easy!"

Sarge looked over his shoulder then dove over the bomb as the silver Elite smashed its gun against the bomb. Sarge placed his hand between the spikes then spun the bomb around. The Elite cried out as the spikes impaled the side of its body. Sarge then placed his hands on the end of the bomb, again between the spikes, then pushed the bomb across the room. Sarge started screaming as he pushed faster and faster while the Elite simply screamed in pain. Finally, Sarge smashed the Elite against the back door of the elevator they rode in on, pushing the Elite's body through the spikes, finally killing it. Sarge fell to his knees, panting heavily for awhile before letting out a long sigh.

"How much time was left," Sarge asked.

Cortana simply laughed before replying; "You don't wanna know."

"_Cairo, this is In Amber Clad. The carrier's shields are down, I'm in position for immediate assault."_

"Negative commander," Lord Hood replied, "not against a ship that size. Not on your own, or at least not without someone attempting a suicide mission."

Sarge turned his head, looking at his team. "Ah crap," Grif sighed out.

"Sir, permission to leave the station."

"For what purpose Sarge?"

"_To give the Covenant back their bomb…and maybe kill Grif."_ Hood's eyes lit up as he looked forward, cracking a slight smirk.

"Permission granted…"

"You heard him," Sarge shouted. "Donut, Simmons, Grif, all of you in here now." The Reds quickly filed into the elevator then headed downward again.

"I know what you're thinking," Cortana told Sarge.

"I don't," Grif shouted. "Tell me!"

"Yeah, what are you planning Sarge," Simmons asked.

"It's crazy," Cortana answered.

"So," Sarge replied smugly. "Stay here."

"Can I stay here," Grif asked from the other side of the bomb. Sarge reached up, grabbed onto the ceiling then lifted his legs up and kicked Grif with both of his feet against the lazy Spartan's face. "OW!" Grif's head was thrown back and smacked against the back wall.

"Unfortunately for us both: I like crazy."

"Sir," Simmons asked. "What are you planning exactly?" The elevator door opened, revealing a giant window that showed the humans battling the Covenant in space. "Um…sir, when you said give the Covenant back their bomb…did you mean delivering it personally?"

Sarge simply grabbed onto the bomb then dragged it out of the elevator. Simmons gave a fearful whimper, while a still puzzled Donut walked out, dragging Grif by his feet. Sarge released the bomb then looked out of the window at Earth along with his team.

"Get ready men," Sarge ordered. Simmons quickly ran behind a pillar in the center of the room while Donut followed him. Sarge turned and quickly joined his team, slamming his fist against a giant blue button.

"Just one question," Cortana asked. Sarge reached up and grabbed a handle. "What if you miss?"

"I won't."

"I know, but I'm asking what if you _do_ miss?"

"Um…then we'll all be dead I guess."

"Wait, can I protest against this," Simmons asked.

"Too late!" Sarge quickly pulled down on the handle, opening the window up.

All the air started to be sucked out into space. The Reds held themselves down while Sarge watched the bomb skid along slowly. The Red commander grabbed Donut's wrist, then Donut grabbed Simmons' wrist, and Simmons grabbed Grif's.

"Wait, I'm not so sure this is a good idea," Simmons shouted.

"Neither am I," Sarge replied, having already dove out from the pillar, grabbing one of the spikes on the bomb. The Reds flew out into space, using the bomb as their ride.

The ride was slow as the Reds and their bomb descended downwards. One cruiser was already moving down towards Earth, and there was no way for the Reds to catch up to it. A second cruiser passed just beneath the Reds.

"Alright, we got this," Grif shouted. Suddenly, the ship started firing a massive laser beam, narrowly missing the Reds each time. "OH GOD WE'RE GONNA DIE!"

"Simmons, kick Grif in the face!"

"WE'RE GONNA DIE," Simmons screamed along with Grif.

Sarge groaned then rolled his head, looking dead ahead to the cruiser. Just as it seemed one of the lasers would hit the Reds, a giant human cruiser flew in and took the shot for them. The Reds watched in wonder as small explosions erupted all around the ship that now drifted by them. Grif and Donut stared as the engines tried to flicker back to life.

"Did a crap load of people just die to save us," Grif asked.

"Ah, probably," Sarge replied with a small shrug. Just then, two fighter ships zoomed past the Reds, then swooped up, dropping bombs on the Covenant cruiser. "Ha-ha, now that's how you make a front door!" The Reds floated through the hole that the bombs made, descending into a room with a single, massive fusion core.

"Hey look," Simmons pointed downward, "there's another hole we can escape through!"

"Excellent work Simmons! Now get to floating down! I'm gonna activate this puppy!" The other Reds started 'swimming' down towards the hole while Sarge kept ahold of the bomb.

"You're honestly the craziest person I know," Cortana muttered. Sarge huffed then pulled himself over the bomb, touching the activation panel again. The Red leader turned around, placed his feet on the bomb then launched himself off the bomb. "We're not gonna make it!"

"Oh we'll make it," Sarge replied, activating his jetpack to full power.

The Red leader shot forward like a bullet. Sarge was screaming, going much faster than he expected. As Sarge passed his squad, he grabbed Simmons and Donut, and Grif quickly grabbed onto him. The Red team flew downward, all of them screaming as the cruiser started to explode.

"I don't think we're gonna make it now," Cortana shouted. Luckily for the Reds, In Amber Clad flew right below them. Sarge slammed into the hull of the ship hard, bringing the rest of his squad smashing into the heavy metal just as hard as him.

"Yeow," Sarge groaned.

"Okay," Grif moaned, "Let's not do _that_ EVER again…ow…"

"For once sir," Simmons began, his head spinning around, "Grif…is right." Simmons sighed as he fell backwards.

"Is anyone else seeing stars," Donut asked, lying flat on his back.

"_Reds,"_ Miranda's voice called over their radios, _"Get inside and gear up. We're taking this fight to the surface."_

"More fighting," Grif shouted. "We just saved out space station and blew up a cruiser! What more do you want from us!"

"_How about less bitching,"_ Miranda replied.

"Commander," Sarge said, letting out another groan. "I knew I always liked you…ow…" Sarge fell on his back again. "Donut, start healing us."

"Oh right, I can do that now." Donut activated his healing bubble, covering all of the Reds who all sighed with relief.

"Alright," Sarge said, flipping up to his feet. "I'm back and rejuvenated! Let's go kick some Covenant ass on Earth!" The other three Reds simply groaned then banged their heads on the ship's hull again.

**

* * *

Wow, this took me forever to write lol. I'm sorry this took so long to update and stuff, but that's usually how these chapters work sometimes. I'll start writing, and then I'll lose interest, then I'll start writing a little bit, and start coming up with jokes and all this other cool stuff, and then BOOM I'm finished.**

**Unfortunately with this update comes some bad news: I start college **_**tomorrow**_**. And well, since college is pretty important I intend to try my hardest at it, unlike high school, so who knows when this story will be updated again. Luckily I only have four classes, and I only go to school two days a week, so hopefully I won't be too horribly busy. Still, don't expect me to update anytime soon, unless I get some type of miracle stroke of genius that won't go away. Don't fret though, I won't abandon my story, but I won't spend all my time on the computer anymore. So I apologize that I can't update more often after tomorrow, but destiny calls right? And by destiny I mean college.**

**Thanks for reading, and I hope you leave a review too =)**


	3. Regret This

"The message just repeats, 'Regret, Regret, Regret…'"

"Catchy," Miranda replied from In Amber Clad.

"Why the hell did she get to stay behind," Grif asked over the radio.

"_Why the hell am I not in the same ship as Grif,"_ Sarge demanded. _"Because somebody needs to kick his ass!"_ Grif snickered under his breath.

"Any idea what the whole 'Regret' thing means," Miranda asked.

"Dear humanity," Johnson began, "we regret being alien bastards, we _regret_ coming to Earth. And we most defiantly regret the Corps just blew up our RAGGEDY ASS FLEET!"

"Ooh-rah," two marine pilots replied.

"Regret is a name sergeant," Cortana stated. "It's the name of one of the Covenant's religious leaders: a Prophet. He's on that carrier, and he's calling for help!"

"What the hell, the Covenant have a religion?"

"Yeah Grif, it's what the whole Covenant is based around," Simmons replied. "It's basically a group of aliens who get together and worship the idea that some dead alien species is going to grant them salvation."

"So…it's like Christianity, just with aliens?"

"Yeah, sure Grif."

"Both of you shut up," Sarge shouted. "What're your orders sergeant Johnson?"

"We're goin in," Johnson ordered. "Get tactical marines!"

"You hear that Sarge: tactical," Grif said, looking at the Pelican next to his.

"_Please let me at least throw a grenade at them!"_

"_Red Team,"_ Hood said over the radio, _"Get aboard that carrier, and secure the Prophet of Regret. This is the only place the Covenant decided to land of Earth, and that Prophet is gonna tell us why!"_

"Stand by, thirty seconds to—whoa…"

"Whoa," Grif repeated, his tone become fearful. "What whoa? What does whoa mean?" Grif moved up to the cockpit and looked forward, seeing a giant four legged construction walking forward, blocking their path. There was a giant eye that opened up and began charging. "Oh crap! Donut, brace yourself!"

"I didn't sign up for this shit," Donut screamed. Grif stopped and stared at his pink comrade for a moment. "Sorry, it's just usually Sarge orders me to freak out in life of death situations."

The Scarab fired its main cannons, unleashing a powerful beam that destroyed one of three Pelicans. Its plasma cannon mounted on the back started firing as the other two Pelicans split. Grif's Pelican got hit by the plasma cannon, flipped around inverted and skimmed across a rooftop.

"Talk to me, should I start CPR," Cortana asked from within Donut's head. The pink Spartan groaned, barely moving from where he laid. "Blink if you can hear me Donut." The pink Spartan blinked. "You do know I don't know when you're blinking right?"

"Right," Donut moaned as he rose to his feet. "My bad."

"Hey," Cortana snapped from within Grif's helmet. Cortana played an audio log of tapping against metal which stirred Grif back to consciousness. "Wake up."

"Shake it off marines," Johnson shouted. "Clear the crash site, go, go, go!" Grif slowly rose to his feet then staggered behind Donut and the marines.

"_Donut, Johnson, come in. Are you two okay?"_

"We're fine Red," Johnson replied. "Even Grif."

"_God dang it!"_

"Maybe next time," Johnson muttered as he entered a courtyard. "Heads up!" Johnson dove behind cover with two marines while Donut and Grif scrambled to the side. "If they didn't know we were here before: they do now!"

"Why couldn't I have just slept in today," Grif asked no one in particular. Donut started firing his battle rifle, taking out a few Grunts on the high ground.

"Yep, here they come," Johnson shouted as he pointed up to a group of Jackal snipers. "Up high!" Johnson fired a sniper round clean through a Jackal's skull. "I don't wanna kill ya, it's just that you're too ugly to live!"

"Excellent burn sir," Donut called out before throwing a grenade forward. The grenade bounced between an Elite and two Grunts before exploding in their faces.

"Excellent toss son," Johnson replied. "More on the street, left side!" The marines and Donut started firing into the Covenant while moving into a nearby building. Johnson wasted no time and quickly ran up to the rooftops for a better sniper's position. Donut and Grif were on the level just below Johnson, firing down as waves of Covenant poured into the courtyard. "We got Jackals in the-," Johnson fired a round into a nearby fusion coil, blowing the Jackals and their Elite commander to pieces, "Oh wait, never mind!"

"AH! What're those things?" Johnson turned to the side, seeing Drones flying over the rooftops.

"Buggers, heading over the rooftops! Someone man that turret!" Grif quickly crouched down and grabbed the turret and fired into the horde of bugs that flew towards him. Donut fired his battle rifle while the marines fired their automatic weapons.

"There's so many of them," Donut shouted.

"Oh calm down," Johnson ordered. The sergeant fired a round that pierced through a Drone, bounced off a wall, tore through the skull of another bugger, bounced off another wall towards the ground, soared upward then zipped through four more Drones. "See, nothing to worry about."

"Wow, you gotta teach me that trick," Donut said enthusiastically.

After a few more small waves of Covenant that were quickly dispatched due to Donut's grenade tossing skills, Johnson's greatness, and Grif's ability not to be killed. Johnson twirled his sniper rifle like it was a pistol as a Pelican flew overhead.

"My girl's a little big for that courtyard sergeant. I see a good LZ on the other side of these buildings. Meet you there, over." The Pelican moved up and flew over the buildings.

"Roger that, someone get a satchel on the gate," Johnson ordered. One marine quickly moved to grab a satchel, but suddenly the doors began to shake, causing dust to stir.

"Crap, Donut," Grif asked.

"Yeah Grif," Donut replied, the fearfulness rising in his tone.

"There's something bad on the other side of that gate isn't there…?"

"Yeah Grif…" The gates flew open and dust filled the nearby air. Two Hunters walked out side-by-side.

"Hunters," Cortana said within both of the Reds' helmets.

"Stand back marines, we don't need useful soldiers dying today," Johnson ordered. "Grif, Donut, take care of those big nasties!"

"Alright," Donut replied. "Come on Grif!"

"Hey, he's joking right?" Without another word, Donut rushed forward. "Son of a bitch…"

Donut started unloading with his assault rifle into one Hunter. The massive beast raised its shield above its head, then swung downward as Donut got close. The pink Spartan fell on his back and slid between then Hunter's legs before jumping to his feet and firing into the beast's back. Grif ran up to the second Hunter, sprung into the air then shot his foot towards the behemoth. The Hunter blocked with its shield then threw Grif backwards. The orange Spartan spun backwards, and was ready to land. However as he landed, his foot slipped under some loose dust and the Spartan fell face first into the ground. The Hunter rushed forward at Grif, the barrel of its cannon lighting up.

"Son of a bitch…"

Grif stood up then raised his arms in front of his face, activating his armor lock. The Hunter fired its fuel rod cannon at Grif, hitting the Spartan directly. The beam of green however was split directly down the middle as Grif's armor lock withstood the blast. The cannon's fire died down, needing some time to recharge itself. Grif deactivated his armor lock then rushed forward again. The Hunter swung its shield upward, just as Grif activated his armor lock again. Perfectly still, Grif spun above the Hunter's head, deactivated his armor lock, and landed smoothly behind the beast. The orange Spartan turned around and began unloading rounds into the orange backside of the Hunter until it collapsed in a heap of heavy metal.

"Holy shit, I can't believe that worked!"

Donut ducked under the Hunter's strike, then rolled forward as it began to shoot the ground. Donut continued to roll until the Hunter's beam tore through the ground and arched through the air harmlessly. The pink Spartan rushed forward as the Hunter struck its shield forward. Donut ducked and rolled to the side, a grenade with the pin pulled in hand. The pink Spartan thrusted his fist forward, piercing the soft, orange flesh of the Hunter. Donut released the grenade, pulled his hand out, and then dove backwards as the Hunter's entire upper body exploded with orange gore and blood.

"Awe man, it's gonna take forever to get these stains off my armor now," Donut exclaimed.

"Donut, Donut, did you see me! I killed a Hunter by myself," Grif shouted. "And it took less time for me to kill it than it took you! That's so cool right? Right?"

"Wow, I'm actually impressed Grif," Donut admitted.

"Enough with the hand-holding Spartans," Johnson snapped, now standing behind the two Reds. "We've got a job to do, so let's move out!"

The marines, Johnson, and the Reds moved forward into the courtyard, only for Grif's head to be nearly taken off by a Jackal wielding a beam rifle. "Holy shit," Grif shouted as he fell on his rear behind cover. "What was that?"

"The only thing worse than Jackals: Jackals with sniper rifles," Donut said, his tone surprisingly dark. "And the only thing worse than Jackals with sniper rifles," Donut continued, his tone once again lighthearted, "would have to be…a threesome with cheerleaders."

"How the hell are you married," Grif asked, still lying on his back.

"This is Sergeant Major Johnson," Grif snickered a bit, "we're pinned down by sniper fire, we need immediate assistance over!"

"_Roger that Sergeant Major,"_ a voice replied over the radio, _"We have assistance coming your way over."_

The Jackal with the sniper continued to fire, mainly towards Grif who didn't dare to move even a single muscle. "Shriek, shriek, squawk!" Translation: "Why isn't the orange one moving?" Another Jackal looked towards the sniper, and then up in the sky.

"Shriek…" Translation: "You might wanna move…"

The sniper looked up and was instantly crushed by a drop pod. The alien's arm twitched erratically while the other Jackals slowly approached the structure. Suddenly, the door came flying open, smashing into two Jackals, throwing their lifeless bodies back. The other Jackals looked over to their dead comrades then back to the pod.

Sarge leapt out, using his boot to crush one Jackal's skull against the concrete. The Red commander then ducked as an overcharged plasma shot nearly struck him in the back of the head. Sarge turned around then knelt down while throwing a powerful punch that tore through the Jackal's shield and struck the fragile bird-alien across the chest, crushing its ribcage. Sarge then ducked again as another plasma shot whizzed by. The Red commander grabbed his shotgun from his back, spun it around on his finger tips then blasted the last Jackal's face off.

Johnson and his squad dared to peak, watching as Sarge placed the shotgun on his shoulders as he walked towards them. "Grif, what the sam-hell were you doing?"

"I wasn't getting killed that's what—oh I see where this is going…"

"That's right numb-nuts, there are countless men and women dying in the streets of New Mombasa right now, and you don't even have the common courtesy to die with them! I can think of three billion other lives on this planet that are more valuable than yours! The least you could do is make an effort to sacrifice yourself!"

"Yeah, I killed a Hunter all by myself," Grif hissed. "You should at least give me credit for that."

"Oh wow, all by yourself? I'm so impressed. I took out an entire Covenant battle cruiser less than two hours ago, all by myself! I don't expect Lord Hood to wipe my ass for it!"

"Whatever dude," Grif sighed as he walked past Sarge.

"_Johnson, I need you on that bird,"_ Miranda's voice called out through the radio.

"Ma'am," Johnson questioned.

"_My Pelicans are going to start airlifting armor and reinforcements into the city. They'll need an escort that isn't afraid of a little hostile ground fire."_

"Understood, I'll keep an eye on them." Johnson turned to Sarge, "Red, good luck."

"_Oh, and Simmons is going to be with you too,"_ Miranda added. _"I'll totally understand if you end up KIA in battle."_

"_I'm on the radio too ya know,"_ Simmons' voice replied, _"And I have feelings damn it!"_

"Yeah, angry feelings," Grif remarked.

"_DAMN IT! I don't have an anger control issue!"_

"Simmons," Sarge barked, "Stow your anger!" Simmons mumbled something angrily, but otherwise remained quiet. Johnson climbed into the Pelican where an angry Simmons continued to mumble. "Donut, Grif…uh…the rest of you marines, let's get moving!"

The Reds and marines reached second squad, where the commander in charge approached, "Reds, glad you could make it. The crash site is just on the other side of this hotel Red Team, but Covenant are crawling all over it. Follow me."

Sarge moved forward through a dark hallway. He signaled for Donut and Grif to move to the sides, but due to the darkness, neither could see what was going on. As the Covenant came down the hall, Sarge fired his weapon then dove for cover, under the idea that Donut and Grif were ready for an ambush.

"WHAT THE HELL," Grif shouted.

"Take cover," Donut shrieked. The two other Reds moved for cover as plasma flew down the hall.

"What the hell was that," Grif demanded, turning to Sarge from across the hall.

"That's exactly what I'd like to know! Where were you two with the ambush!"

"What ambush," Grif asked.

"I gave you a signal to hide in the wings and wait to ambush the enemy!"

"I can't even see you right now, how the hell am I supposed to know what you're signaling to me?"

"Use your light idiot!" Grif tapped the side of his head, causing a pair of lights on either side to start up.

"Oh, that's cool." Suddenly, four grenades landed in front of Grif. "Son of a bi-," The grenades exploded simultaneously. The smoke cleared, showing that Grif was in armor lock. "I love this feature!"

"Damn, now my plans for killing you will have to be all the more elaborate!"

"Or you could just shoot him in the back of the head when he's NOT in armor lock," Donut suggested. Sarge was quiet before he turned to the pink Spartan.

"Excellent point private Donut."

"Hey, if Donut has a bubble that'll heal us constantly, why doesn't he just deploy that, we stand in it, and shoot the aliens from inside of it?"

"Excellent idea again Donut," Sarge exclaimed.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me…"

"Grif, run out and use your armor lock to shield Donut while he activates his healing thingy, and we'll fire back at the Covenant!"

"You know, that's actually a half decent plan."

Grif ran out into cover, throwing his arms and legs out as his armor lock activated. Donut dove behind Grif and activated his healing bubbled. Sarge got between Grif and Donut and started firing at the Covenant. The aliens dropped one by one until all of them were dead. Grif's armor lock was lowered and his limbs fell limply by his side.

"Sarge, I have to say it again: that was a half decent-," Sarge punched Grif in the back of the head with all his might, causing the orange Spartan to stumble forward. "OW! What the hell?"

"Don't speak until spoken to private Grif!"

The Reds moved onward, making their way to an open street where a marine in a warthog pulled up, honking his horn. "A special delivery from Commander Keyes Red Team."

"Right, mount up men! And Donut, you get in the turret."

"Aye, aye sir!" Grif hopped into the driver's side, Sarge as the passenger, and Donut manned the gunner's chair. "Oh man, I love the beach!"

"Please tell me you didn't pack a suit," Grif moaned.

"Cut the chatter," Cortana ordered. "We got trouble!"

"Oh crap, more Covenant," the Spartan said.

"Donut, open fire, Grif, drive over those aliens ASAP!"

"Why don't you ever do anything," Grif asked as he ran over three Grunts.

"I'm ridin shotgun! The one in shotgun never has to do anything unless absolutely necessary! Plus I'm _wielding_ a shotgun. There's not much I could kill with my range…except maybe you private Grif."

"Alright, fuck it." Grif turned sharply, crushing an Elite with the rear end of the vehicle.

"All enemies down Sarge," Donut shouted as loudly as he could.

"Donut why the hell are you screaming," Grif asked.

"What?"

"The gun is loud in case you didn't know," Cortana said to Sarge and Grif.

"She's right, it is pretty freaking loud," Grif told Sarge.

"No kiddin. Let's keep moving onward!"

The Reds rode across the beach of New Mombasa, killing and running over any Covenant in their path. The Reds finally made it to the other end of the beach where Grif slowed to a stop in front of a giant hole in a wall, leading to a tunnel highway.

"Grif, why'd you stop," Cortana asked.

"It's a giant hole in the wall that leads to a dark creepy area. If I've learned one thing from sitting on the couch, doing nothing until I got drafted into this fucking war it's that creepy holes that are dark and scary only lead to bad things!" Sarge turned to Grif and punched him in the side of the head. "OW!"

"Move ya big idiot. There's nothing wrong with that tunnel."

"Actually it's full of bats if ya know what I mean," Cortana chimed in "but it sure beats swimming."

"Son of a bitch," Sarge and Donut said at the same time.

"Bats, what bats," Grif asked. "Who said something about bats being in the dark creepy tunnel? I'm not going in there if there are bats!"

"Fine, move!" Sarge literally booted Grif out of the driver's side and onto the ground. Sarge inched over in the driver's side then looked down at Grif. "You might want to hurry and catch up, otherwise the bats may come out of their cave and get you Grif!" Sarge chuckled before he sped off into the tunnel, disappearing in the darkness.

"God damn it," Grif shouted as he sprinted as quickly as he could towards a nearby ghost. With the booster on, Grif took no time in catching up with Donut and Sarge.

"I've been analyzing the Covenant tactical chatter," Cortana told the Reds. "They're surprised, and confused. I don't think they expected us to be here. Not just you guys, but all of us: humanity on Earth. Odd, I know, but it does help explain why they came here in such a small group."

"Small group," Grif repeated. "It's an entire Covenant army and it's a small group?"

"Grif, shut up," Cortana ordered.

"You heard the lady Grif," Sarge snapped. "Stow it!"

"_Uh guys,"_ Simmons called out through the radio. Sarge looked forward, seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. _"There's some trouble directly ahead of you…"_

The warthog and ghost rode out of the tunnel, slowing to a stop before turning to their sides. All the Reds, Simmons included from a slowly descending Pelican and Cortana from the Reds' helmets, looked ahead and all said one thing: "Son of a bitch…"


	4. BMFG

Sarge, Grif, and Donut walked up to a female marine who watched as the Scarab marched over the bridge. "It just blew right through us. Fifty cal, rockets, didn't do a thing." A Pelican carrying Simmons and Johnson descended to the ground.

"Where's the rest of your platoon," Johnson asked.

"Wasted Sarge," the female marine replied.

"Yeah, and I don't want my ass handed to me either," Grif shouted. "I'm leaving!"

"You hit Spartan," Johnson questioned, placing his hand on Grif's shoulder.

"Um…yeah actually, I think I should head on this Pelican out."

"You lazy bag of bones, let me tell you something so listen up! You had your chance to be afraid before you joined my beloved Corps. But to guide you back to the true path, I brought this motivational device. Red is gonna jump in this tank, roll across the bridge, and blow up any inhuman-son-of-a-bitch dumb enough to get between him and the Prophet of Regret. So pull yourself together! Because you're going with him."

"What, that's bullshit! What're we supposed to do with just ONE tank against that big Scarab thing?"

"You listen to me you whiny little bitch! When I joined the Corps we didn't have no fancy shamcy tanks. We had sticks! Two sticks, and a rock for the whole platoon, and we had to share the rock. Buck up boy, you're one lucky Spartan."

"I dunno sir, I've gotta agree with Grif on this one," Donut murmured.

"Donut, if there's one thing I've learned during my years of working in the Corps it's that the Lord works in very mysterious ways. Like giving me a way to survive the Flood infection: that's mysterious and almost unbelievable. But not today! This here is sixty-six tons of straight up, H-E-spewing dee-vine intervention! If god is love, then you can just call me cupid."

Sarge sniffed, putting his shotgun under his arm and began to applaud, "That was beautiful sir. Your crazy, long-winded ramblings are the whole reason I joined the Corps!"

"We're Spartans, we were basically drafted," Grif stated.

"Thanks for the tank," Cortana told Johnson. "_They_ never get my anything."

"Oh I know what the ladies like," Johnson stated with a grin as he climbed into the Pelican.

"Hey, how come Simmons isn't with us right now," Grif shouted.

"I'm the intelligence officer Grif," Simmons replied. "My job is to give you guys intel while in the field. And before you whine that you want my job: just remember it requires a lot of thinking."

"Ah fuck it…"

"Grif, Donut, random marine with a rocket launcher, get into that Warthog there," Sarge barked as the Pelican carrying Johnson and Simmons drifted away. "I'll hop in the tank and lay down covering fire while you three move ahead and distract the enemy."

"This is just a chance for me to die isn't it," Grif questioned.

"No, but if that does happen it'll be a nice bonus. But think about it: if there are Wraiths, then most likely they'll bomb the slow moving, very dangerous enemy. In this case: me and the tank. But if there's an annoying turd driving around in their faces and shooting them, then they'll be more focused on that smelly, lazy turd."

"That makes sense," Donut said, turning his head to Grif.

"_Excellent strategy sir,"_ Simmons added over the radio.

"Can we get moving please," Cortana asked. "There's a big tank and I'm in the mood to blow some stuff up."

"You heard the lady," Sarge shouted as he climbed into the tank. "Grif, start operation mobile turd!"

"This fucking sucks," Grif muttered as he jumped into the warthog with the marine and Donut.

"FIRE!"

Sarge, for no apparent reason, fired a shell from the tank and hit a line of support beams. The bridge started to creak and groan loudly, causing everyone to look at each other nervously. The support lines holding up the bridge all began to snap like thin strings before the bridge fell to one side. Vehicles, both human and Covenant, were dropped into the river below. With all the weight of a bridge on one side, the support cables on the left half soon gave way too, causing the entire bridge to fall into the water. The Reds and one marine watched as the bridge sunk into the ocean below in silence.

"How the hell did you manage to pull that off," Grif questioned.

"I have no idea…but it's coming out of YOUR paycheck!"

"That's bullshit!" The barrel of the Scorpion tank slowly started to turn towards Grif. The orange Spartan was staring down the barrel of a massive tank, operated by Sarge.

"What was that private?"

"Nothing sir…"

"Johnson sir, we need air support. Grif's weight caused the bridge to break."

"_On our way Red, we're sending in a Falcon to pick you up."_

"Falcons! Why I haven't seen those since my days back on Reach!" After a few boring minutes, a helicopter looking vehicle descended in front of the Reds. "Donut, Grif, mount the turrets."

Sarge took a seat towards the back of the Falcon while the other two Reds occupied the turrets. The bird lifted off the ground and then started moving towards the other side of the bay.

"Banshees on hot approach," Cortana stated. "And man there's a lot of em…"

Donut pressed down on the trigger, firing endless rounds into one Banshee. Grif was spray bullets all over the place as he had to deal with four banshees at once. "Damn it, they're everywhere!"

"Calm down private Grif, we took on more whenever we were rescuing Captain Keyes didn't we?"

"Yeah, but you hijacked one of them!" Grif cried out and shielded his face as a Banshee zoomed right above the Falcon.

"Oh right, I did." Sarge leaned out of the side of the Falcon, looking down over the edge. "Cortana, you like crazy right?" Before the AI could answer, Sarge stepped over the ledge, falling for a brief instant before landing on a banshee. The Red commander held on tightly for his life as the banshee flew forward as quickly as possible.

"What's with you in these dangerous stunts now? First you jump out of the Cairo with a bomb, and now this." Sarge slid slowly down the top of the Banshee. "What're you thinking…?"

Sarge slipped entirely off the Banshee, but grabbed the pilot's feet at the last second. The Elite growled then looked back with confusion, seeing a red Spartan hanging off his ankles. Sarge lifted his feet up, placing them at the bottom of the Banshee. The Elite mumbled as it grabbed a plasma pistol. Sarge pushed with his legs and pulled with his arms, yanking the Elite out of the cockpit. The Red commander flipped around as he released the Elite and grabbed the bottom of the Banshee before he dropped. The alien cried out and screamed with fear as it plummeted towards the water below. Sarge groaned as he pulled himself into the cockpit and started piloting the aircraft.

"How was that for crazy?"

"Eh…about a four point five."

"Four point—dur-grr-dur…"

"_Are you going to use that freaking Banshee or just mumble shit to yourself,"_ Grif asked frantically with plasma fire being heard over the comms.

"Oh keep your panties on."

"_I'm not wearing panties you jackass!"_

"I know: tell Donut to keep his panties on! I can see his plumber's butt crack all the way from here!"

Sarge sped forward in his Banshee towards a fleet of four others. Immediately, the ships started to open fire. Sarge rolled to the side and moved in a head on collision with another Banshee, jumping out just before the two aircrafts exploded against one another. The red commander grabbed the wing of another Banshee, tilting it to the side before he clawed his way up. Grabbing his shotgun off his back, Sarge walked up and blasted a giant hole through the top of the Banshee, killing the pilot inside. Sarge ran towards the other side of the aircraft then leapt off and hurled a plasma grenade randomly into the air. The third Banshee unfortunately didn't see this and moved right under the grenade and was stuck. The aircraft exploded as Sarge latched onto the front of the last banshee.

"Wake up buttercup," Sarge exclaimed as he cocked his arm back. The Spartan's fist shot forward like a piston, tearing through the hull of the Banshee and right into the face of an unsuspecting Elite. The alien growled with anger as he slipped out and fell to his doom. Sarge quickly moved under the Banshee as it was falling with the Falcon moving quickly towards him.

"_We're coming to get you Sarge,"_ Donut's frantic voice called out.

"Negative," Sarge snapped as he managed to get into the Banshee. "I've got somewhere I need to go! You and Grif continue with the mission!"

"What the fuck! No fucking way!" Sarge flew off into the distance with the Banshee. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me! Simmons gets to hang out with Johnson all day, and now Sarge gets to go AWOL? This is totally FUBAR!"

"Grif, you just used two military terms correctly," Donut stated. "I think Sarge'd be proud!"

"Sirs," the pilot of the falcon called out. "We're setting you down at the nearest Marine Command Post to help fight the Scarab."

"Ah crap, we've gotta take on that damn Scarab alone," Grif questioned.

"Well someone has to deal with it, and so far normal, non-Spartan soldiers aren't even slowing down. So Lord Hood figures that Spartans might be able to do _something_, like maybe destroy the Scarab, or even slow it down." Before Grif could complain, something hit the Falcon with incredible force, causing the ship to shake violently.

"What the hell just happened," Grif shouted as he tried bracing himself.

"Wraiths, three of them trying to destroy the outpost! One of them hit us! We're going down!"

"Grif, use your armor lock in case this doesn't work!" Grif looked at Donut who rose up from his seat. The pink Spartan raised his fist up then slammed it into the floor of the Falcon. Suddenly, a dome like shield emerged around the aircraft as it went spiraling down. The helicopter crashed, but Donut's drop shield took most of the impact. The Falcon rolled over and over against the ground, eventually breaking Donut's shielding just before it smashed into a building.

Grif groaned, hardly able to move or see clearly. "Grif," a voice shouted over the deafening ringing on the lazy Spartan's ears. Donut came into viewing, crouching before shaking Grif. "Get up, hurry and get up!" A massive explosion went off behind Donut. "Grif, up now! Oh crap!"

Donut rushed off, causing the confused and delirious Grif to raise his head. Suddenly, everything went black, and all Grif heard was the whirling of some type of engine. Grif shook his head clear before he looked to his sides, seeing light, but no light above him. The Spartan latched onto the darkness above him and then screamed so loud that it echoed throughout the entire city.

Donut dove behind a makeshift trench, hunkering down as the Wraiths dropped bombs down from behind. The pink grenadier popped his head up to look back at the Wraith that ran over Grif. "Oh man, Sarge is gonna be pissed if Grif is dead without his approval."

Meanwhile, the orange Spartan was clinging for dear life at the bottom of one of three Wraiths. "Donut, Donut are you there?"

"_Grif, oh god you _are_ dead and now you're talking to me from heaven. Well…actually I think those stairs would be too much trouble for you. Are you in hell?"_

"Donut I'm not dead! I'm clinging to the bottom of a Wraith!"

"_Really? That's kind of dangerous isn't it?"_

"I know it's fucking dangerous! Tell the marines not to shoot the Wraiths with something big, like a rocket or a MAC gun."

"Uh…right…" Donut looked up, seeing three marines armed with rocket launchers, aiming at the Wraith furthest to the left. "Guys don't-," Donut's pleas fell on deaf ears as the marines fired simultaneously at one Wraith. The three rockets blew the Wraith to pieces. "Grif, are you alive?"

"_Donut I said _don't_ let them shoot rockets damn it!"_

"Attention marines, don't fire on the Wraiths, repeat, do _not_ fire on the Wraiths! There is a Spartan underneath one of them. I don't know which one, but just don't fire on them!" The marines on the roof signaled to Donut in acknowledgement before falling back inside. "Grif, I hope you have a plan."

"I hope my plan works."

Grif activated his armor lock, weight the Wraith down slightly, but hardly noticeable for the massive tank. A few seconds passed as the remaining Wraiths started bombing the Command Outpost as much as possible, lest they suffer the same fate as the other tank. Grif's armor lock eventually ran out of juice, causing a burst of his shielding, large enough to lift the Wraith to lean on one end. The tank tilted to one side, but wasn't fallen just yet. Grif started to rock the tank until it fell on top of the other Wraith, preventing either from moving or firing without destroying them both. Grif pulled out a grenade then slammed his fist through the bottom of the Wraith.

"OW, fuck that hurt!" The orange Spartan forgot he pulled the pin, causing the Wraith to explode and send him sailing through the air. Grif screamed the entire way through the air while Donut watched just before he smashed into the ground. "Owie…" The Wraith's explosion caused the tank it was on top of to blow up as well.

"Grif, great plan! I can't believe you thought of that."

"Ouch…"

"Oh right." Donut activated his drop shield, summoning a bubble around him and Grif that healed the latter. "You good now?"

"I think so," Grif replied as he sat up. "There's no more searing pain." As a Pelican came to drop off a squad of marines, a corporal ran out of the command post.

"Sirs, Corporal Perez, A-Company, CP's this way." The Corporal turned around and headed back for the building, followed by Grif and Donut. "Lieutenant got hit as soon as we dropped in."

"Who's in charge now then," Grif asked.

"Sergeant Banks, come on I'll show you." The three moved through the building, up several stairs until they ended up outside.

"When they were sending reinforcements, I didn't think they'd be bringing a Spartan," Banks stated upon the arrival of the two. A loud blast was heard, causing the sergeant to turn around, seeing a building get ripped open by the Scarab "We got trouble!"

Grif quickly moved up and knelt down to the nearest turret and aimed it down the road while a group of three Scorpions got ready to fire. The Scarab emerged behind a building and turned the corner, facing the group. The Scorpions started firing, as well as Grif and several others with automatic turrets and rocket mounted missile launchers. The Scarab took each and every round delivered upon it, covering the entire monstrosity in smoke and fire. The firing stopped, mostly because everyone was out of ammunition. The smoke and dust stirred and everything was silent. Suddenly, a series of plasma blasts ripped through the smoke, burning and tearing apart the marines and turrets on the upper level of the Command Post. The Scorpions started firing again as the Scarab came through the smoke, seemingly unscathed from the onslaught of firepower. The main cannon charged up before unleashing hell and tearing through the Scorpions and the ground itself.

"You see this look," Grif questioned. "It's terror!"

"One: I can't see no damn look behind your helmet, and two: I never gave you permission to bitch!" Banks, Grif, and Donut looked up, seeing the Scarab was coming towards them, walking up on the roof of the Command Post while knocking over an antenna. "That thing is really starting to PISS ME OFF! Marines, time to kill us a Scarab!" Banks immediately rushed off while Grif and Donut looked at each other and sighed.

The Reds moved to the upper level of the roof and through another door, heading through a series of halls and stairs, hearing the thunderous footsteps of the Scarab outside. They went through a doorway, standing on the walkway of a giant water canal as the Scarab passed them.

"Damn it, it's too far ahead," Donut stated. "We're going to have to sprint if we're gonna catch up to it!"

"Sprinting? You've gotta be-," Donut immediately turned and shot down the walkway as quickly as he could. "Damn it!" Grif followed after Donut, the two of them running alongside the Scarab.

As they ran, a squad of Covenant soldiers came out on top of the Scarab and started firing upon the Spartans. Donut and Grif returned fire, still running as quickly as it could. The plasma cannon on the back of the Scarab fired, blowing holes in a bridge that the Reds would've had to cross in order to board it.

"Shit," Grif snapped.

"We can make it if we jump!" Donut ran faster as the Scarab turned a corner in the canal and marched forward. The pink Spartan leaped through the air, clearing the gap in the bridge. "Come on Grif!"

"Son of a bitch." Grif ran and then dove forward, clutching onto the ledge before Donut helped pull him up.

"Alright, now we gotta board that thing." As Grif rose to his feet, a Banshee flew by dangerously close to the Reds.

"God damn it," Grif shouted.

"Take cover," Donut screamed, tackling Grif as the Scarab's plasma cannon fired upon them.

The Banshee's upper half was broken off by plasma fire, revealing a familiar red Spartan piloting it. Sarge crashed the Banshee into the plasma turret, destroying the gun as he flew through the fire and smoke, landing onto a bridge at the end of the canal.

"It can't go any further this way," Cortana told Sarge. "We got it trapped. Though I'm sure that wouldn't matter anyway." The Scarab's main cannon focused on Sarge and started to charge up. Sarge aimed a plasma rifle forward at the Scarab.

"What's he doing," Donut asked.

"Looks like he's killing himself," Grif replied.

"Oh no!"

The Scarab fired its main cannon at Sarge. The Red commander pressed down on the plasma rifle's trigger, unleashing a catastrophic beam that rivaled the Scarab's. The two beams met in the center, impacting with enough force to rival the aftershock of a nuke. The water was thrown apart, the ground shook, and Grif and Donut fell on their rears. Eventually, both guns stopped, having to charge down before being used again.

"What the hell is that thing," Grif asked, his tone shrill and frightened.

On top of the Scarab, a silver Elite emerged from inside the vehicle, staring at Sarge. "He has our holy weapon," the Ultra shouted in their native tongue of blargs and honks. "We must kill him!"

Sarge looked at the side of his plasma rifle that fired a Scarab beam, waiting for the flashing lights to die down. The red Spartan looked up, hearing the Scarab gun charging up again. As the beam fire, Sarge's weapon had recharged. The Red sergeant simply ducked as the beam passed over his head, aiming his gun forward. As Sarge pressed on the trigger, a powerful beam was released, punching a hole through the eye of the Scarab and coming out of the end of the vehicle. The Scarab's weapon stopped, no longer functioning. Sarge chuckled cockily as he stood up and moved his gun upward. The beam was lifted up, tearing the Scarab in half.

"Boys, and by that I mean alien enemies, you just got Sarge'd," Sarge stated as he lowered his arms.

The Ultra in command of the Scarab roared loudly, causing Sarge to snap his head to the side and move back just before a sword sliced him. Sarge aimed the gun at the Elite, not thinking about the range factor of the gun. The Elite rolled to the side as the beam tore through the stone wall of the canal. The Ultra Elite moved to attack, but Sarge quickly snapped his gun towards the alien, aiming at his chest. The two froze for a moment, neither moving an inch. Finally, the Ultra hurled a plasma grenade forward with its left hand. Sarge threw the Scarab Gun forward to intercept the grenade. The blue ball stuck to the gun, causing it to spark erratically.

"Oh boy," Sarge muttered.

The explosion was cataclysmic, sending both the Ultra Elite and Sarge flying. Sarge grunted as he hit the ground and rolled off the bridge, but desperately clung to the ledge. The Elite was luckier, having only smacked into a wall that destroyed his shielding system. The silver alien got up and staggered across the bridge as Sarge tried to pull himself up. The Elite pulled out a plasma pistol then started firing at the ground in front of Sarge. Startled, Sarge lost his grip and slipped back down, clinging to the ledge by his finger tips. The Elite stood over Sarge and raised the sword high above its head. Before it could deliver the final blow, Donut tackled the Elite as Grif ran up next to Sarge.

"Grif," Sarge exclaimed. "Get me up now!"

"What the hell was that gun you used," Grif asked, still sounding panicked.

"Oh you didn't know? It's Easter and I went hunting for eggs and found that—GET ME UP DAMN IT!"

"I dunno Sarge, you are kind of mean to me."

"Fine, don't help me up, but look." Grif turned, seeing Donut battling the Ultra Elite.

The alien swung its sword as Donut rolled under the strike. The pink Spartan threw a punch, hitting the Elite in the face as it turned around. The alien staggered then swung his sword again, leaving a faint scratch across Donut's armor.

"Hey, this is designer made ya know!" The Elite grabbed Donut's head then sent it crashing into his knee. Donut cried out then groaned in pain as he stumbled back as the Elite approached and started beating Donut savagely.

"Once that Elite kills Donut you can try fighting him," Sarge said, looking at Grif.

"Grab my hand sir," Grif shouted, kneeling down. Sarge took his hand and groaned as the orange Spartan lifted him up.

Donut screamed as he was hurled halfway across the bridge, slamming against the ground. The Ultra marched forward, the tip of his sword dragging against the ground. The Elite towered over Donut then raised his sword up, intending to finish him. Suddenly, something shot him in the chest, lowering his shields. The Elite looked up, seeing Sarge aiming his shotgun at him before reloading a single shell.

"Come here ya big son of a bitch!"

The Elite growled before marching forward at the same time as Sarge. The red Spartan fired his shotgun once, damaging the Elite's shields again, and then another time, lowering its shields. The Elite ducked under the final blast then swung his sword upward. Sarge jumped back, missing the strike before he thrusted the barrel of his shotgun into the mouth of the Elite. The alien froze, staring at the gun jammed in his mouth. Sarge held up his hand then slowly waved 'bye bye' to the Elite before pulling the trigger. The back of the alien's head blew outward, throwing brain matter and purple blood out before the corpse fell backwards and hit with a thud. Sarge placed his shotgun across his shoulders and put a hand on his hip as the blood raced out from the alien's head.

The Reds then looked up at Regret's cruiser, seeing it drifting away. Johnson and Simmons' Pelican floated down close to the Reds. "That's right you mothers! Run!"

"_Not if we can help it sergeant,"_ Miranda's voice snapped over the radio. _"Get the Reds and return to In Amber Clad."_

"Roger that ma'am."

In the bridge of In Amber Clad, Hood's face appeared on a screen, "Status?"

"Sir, the Prophet of Regret is bugging out, request permission to engage!"

"Negative commander, I'll vector two heavies for star-side intercept." Just then, at the tip of the cruiser, there was a purple glow.

"Ma'am, Slipspace rupture off the target's bow! It's going to jump _inside_ the city!"

"There's no time sir," Miranda snapped, looking at Hood. Outside the ship, Johnson's Pelican entered In Amber Clad as it started to follow Regret's ship. "Punch it, get us close!"

"Ma'am without a destination solution-,"

"Shut up and do it," Miranda hissed. "We're _not_ losing that ship!" The carrier entered the Slipspace rupture as In Amber Clad trailed right next to it, pulling the smaller ship with it. The jump created a massive burst of electromagnetic waves that engulfed the entire city. In the skies, the Covenant cruiser and In Amber Clad vanished without a trace.

* * *

Light years away from Earth, on the Covenant capital, High Charity, a disgraced Elite who failed in one of the most important duties known to the Covenant, had been handed an ultimatum. He had to choose between an instant death, or to become something far greater than himself, that would most likely lead to his eventual death regardless. He looked to the Prophet of Mercy, and then to the Prophet of Truth before staring at the armor in front of him. The Elite reached up and grabbed the helmet before placing it firmly on his head. Turning to the Prophets, he only asked one question:

"What would you have your Arbiter do?"


	5. New Guy, Er, Alien

The newly made Arbiter stood at the end of a Phantom, hearing the commander giving a motivational speech to his troops. The Arbiter looked to the floor, recalling his latest mission: vanquish a group of Heretic comprised of Elites and Grunts. After the speech, the Ultra Elite approached the Arbiter. "This armor suits you," the Commander spoke.

"Thank you," the Arbiter replied.

"But it cannot hide that mark," the Ultra added swiftly.

"Yeah, I knew that. Nothing ever will."

"You are the Arbiter, the will of the Prophets, but these are _my_ Elites. Their lives matter to me. Yours does not." The Commander and the Arbiter stared at each other for a long moment.

"Alright," Arbiter finally spoke. "I'll uh…try to make sure that they don't die." The Commander continued to stare before tilting his head to the side and letting out a small huff.

"_Leader, there is no doubt: the storm will strike the facility!"_

The Commander turned his head and spoke into the speakers, "We'll be long gone before it arrives." The Phantoms started lowering down to a Forerunner facility. "Warriors prepare for battle!"

The Arbiter dropped down with three Elites and a small squad of Grunts. The Arbiter unleashed his energy sword before running forward, being led by a squad of SpecOps. The group approached a door, where a pair of Elites were working on splicing open the facility.

"Reveal yourselves only after the Arbiter has engaged the enemy," an Elite shouted to his comrades.

The door opened and the Covenant forces slowly blended into their surroundings. The Arbiter moved in first, moving past the sleeping Heretic Grunts, moving up to an Elite. The Arbiter unleashed is sword and stabbed it into the stomach of the Heretic in one swift motion. The Elite cried out, blood flying out of his mouth. A second Elite noticed this then screamed, aiming his plasma rifle at the Arbiter. The other Covenant forces quickly moved in, hosing down any Heretics with plasma fire. The Arbiter rushed forward as the second Heretic, holding the first one's corpse up as a meat shield. As the corpse hit the still living Heretic, the Arbiter continued moving forward, pushing the two Heretics towards the wall. As soon as the living one's back hit the wall, the Arbiter's sword went through both of the Elites' bodies. The second one screamed in agony before his body went limp. The Arbiter pulled his sword out then watched as the pair of bodies hit the floor.

"Arbiter," a small, annoying voice shouted. The Arbiter spun around out of instinct, quickly beheading a Grunt. The Arbiter's eyes widened with shock as the tiny body hit the floor, thick, gooey blue blood flowing out. The Elite looked up at his comrades with a fearful look.

"Uh…sorry about that."

"Don't worry," an Elite replied. "They're only Grunts. Expendable. See." The Elite turned and punted a Grunt in the rear, causing it to scream as it flew into a random, dark abyss. "No one cares." The remaining Grunts in the squad murmured angrily, but didn't voice their outrage.

The Arbiter and the SpecOps squad moved through the Forerunner facility, cutting down any Heretics in their path. They eventually made their way to an elevator, where they all piled in. "This make us easy targets," a Grunt stated.

"Fine, you watch the rear," another Grunt snapped.

"Me no want to watch the rear. What if Heretics have Hunters with them?" The Arbiter looked at the current SpecOps leader with a wary look. The Elite in dark purple simply shrugged then hit the button. The elevator moved down and the entire Covenant squad activated their camouflage ability to avoid being seen. One Elite looked behind him, through a window and into the hanger below, seeing a Seraph as well as more Heretics and several floating ships.

"Sentinels, the holy warriors of the sacred rings," an Elite bellowed. "Why have they sided with these Heretics?"

"How should I know," Arbiter replied. The Elite grabbed the Arbiter by the shoulders and started shaking him violently.

"WHY HAVE THEY SIDED WITH THESE HERETICS?" Arbiter's head flopped back and forth as he was shook.

"What's that noise," a Heretic shouted. The Covenant forces froze, the panic stricken Elite released the Arbiter, letting him drop to the ground.

"It came from the elevator," a Grunt screamed.

"Ah shit," a non-Heretic Grunt murmured.

"What do we do now," the melodramatic Elite questions. The Arbiter groaned as he rose up off the ground. The Elite spun around, grabbed the Arbiter by his shoulders and started shaking him again. "WHAT DO WE DO NOW DAMN IT?" In a rage Arbiter, struck the unusually dramatic Elite across the face. As the alien dropped to the floor, his camouflage deactivated just as the doors opened. The Covenant squad looked outside, seeing a large group of Heretics and Sentinels all aiming their weapons at them.

"Son of a bitch," a Grunt shouted.

The Heretic Grunts all started hurling grenades forward into the elevator. The Covenant forces all dove out of the elevator, the Arbiter with the unconscious Elite over his shoulders. An Elite socked a Heretic of the same race across the face, breaking its jaw. A Grunt shot a Sentinel out of the sky with an overcharged plasma shot. The flaming heap fell to the ground, crushing a Heretic Grunt under the burning pile of scrape. An Elite Heretic moved to attack the Arbiter who was busy carrying his unconscious comrade. A Grunt screamed as he jumped on the Heretic's back, causing the Elite to snarl and thrash around. A second Grunt ran up and threw his fist into the Elite's crotch. The Heretic groaned then fell to his knees. The Grunt on his back started to punch the Heretic in the head while the other Grunt started to wail on its face.

"Get some," one Grunt shouted.

"HOO-RAH!"

Arbiter rushed beyond the fighting towards the hanger doors. As soon as he got to the hanger controls, the Arbiter threw his hoof forward. The doors hissed as they peaked open. Wind blew in with tremendous force, followed by a pair of Phantoms. The ships dropped in more Grunts and Elite who aided the small infiltration squad. They mowed down the Heretics and Sentinels in little to no time.

"All the Heretics shall fall before our might," an Elite shouted. "For the Great Journey!" The Covenant squads charged deeper into the facility while the Arbiter limped behind with the hysterical Elite on his back still.

"Hey, can someone else carry this guy," Arbiter shouted. "Seriously, I'm the one who's supposed to kill their leader! HELP ME DAMN IT!"

The Covenant squad tore through the Forerunner facility like a hot knife through butter, finding the opposition to be little to no threat. Arbiter meanwhile, was lagging behind, still carrying the worthless Elite on his back. They eventually made their way into a large room with a massive window at the end. On the other side of the window stood the Heretic Leader.

"Deal with him my brothers," the rebellious Elite shouted. "I will protect the Oracle!"

"His truth must not be silenced," a Heretic boomed.

"Alright, someone take care of this," Arbiter growled, throwing the unconscious Elite on the ground. "Take care of these Heretics! I'll deal with their leader!" The Arbiter rushed for the doors, leaving his comrades to fight the few Heretics that came to stop him.

The Heretic Leader got into a Banshee then flew off into the distance. Arbiter took another ship and followed after him through the skies. The Heretic Leader made his way to another part of the facility which was heavily defended by anti-air support. Turrets and Elites unleashed a barrage of plasma fire while Grunts fired fuel rod cannons. The Arbiter rolled the Banshee to the side before unleashing his own barrage of plasma and fuel rod fire. A few Grunts were torched by the plasma shots, while others were blown to pieces or thrown back by fuel rod explosions. One Grunt got luck with a fuel rod, the blast skimming the top of the ship. The Banshee started moving down, irresponsive to Arbiter's controls. The Arbiter growled then used his sword to slice the upper half of the Banshee off. The top of the ship flew down, crushing a Grunt as it smashed into the ground. Arbiter flew forward, plasma fire and fuel rod blasts flying past him. The Elite screamed as he jumped out of the Banshee at the last moment. The aircraft smashed through a turret and slid across the ground, grinding a few Grunts into the metal. The Arbiter slowly pulled himself off the ground as a Heretic rushed towards him. The Arbiter huffed before stabbing the Heretic in the stomach. He huffed dismissively before pulling his blade out and swinging it to behead an Elite in one motion. A single Grunt rushed forward with two plasma grenades in hand. Arbiter roared loudly before punting the Grunt through the air and off the edge of the facility. As he turned around, two explosions went off, causing the Arbiter to smirk before walking forward.

A pair of Phantoms dropped in, releasing a pair of SpecOps and the Commander along with a few Grunts. "Nice of you to join me," Arbiter greeted with a smug tone.

"As I hear it you haven't done much up until now," the Commander replied. Arbiter rolled his eyes then stood next to the Commander as his squad was splicing through the door.

"That's because I was carrying some crazy guy on my back. You said your Elites' lives matter more than mine so I was just doing my job."

"Oh you took that seriously?" Arbiter stared at the Commander with a long, vacant expression.

"My life…does matter?"

"Oh yeah, do you have any idea of the political ramifications that I'd have to deal with if you died on my watch?"

"Seriously?"

"No, half the Council wants you dead regardless." Arbiter rolled his eyes then stared at the door. "Who'd you save again?"

"Some hysterical guy."

"Awe damn it! That was my brother-in-law. Now I wish you would've let him die." Arbiter glared at the Commander who looked back at him. "I'm serious this time. Did he go crazy over nothing and start shaking you?"

"Yeah he did!"

"Oh man I hate that." The doors opened and the squad moved in. The Commander sniffed the air, causing the Arbiter to look back over his shoulder.

"What is it?"

"That stench…I've smelled it before." The Commander moved on as the Arbiter started sniffing the air.

"I think it's one of the Grunts," Arbiter called out.

"Hey, me didn't have time to shower," a Grunt shouted.

The squad continued in, moving into a massive room with nothing but a few corpses littering the room. "By the Prophets, what happened," an Elite questioned. The Grunts whimpered while the Commander walked up and gently nudged one of the corpses with his foot.

"Me have a bad feeling about this," a Grunt whined.

"You always have bad feeling about SOMETHING," another Grunt replied. Suddenly, something flashed at the end of the room, causing everyone's head to snap over. The Heretic Leader was standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

"SEE! Heretic!" The Grunt started firing, but his plasma shots went right through the image.

"Hold your fire, HOLD YOUR FIRE!" The Grunt stopped then cowered beneath the Commander's shadow.

"I wondered who the Prophets would send to silence me," the figure spoke. The Elite turned his head to the Arbiter and sneered. "An Arbiter…I'm flattered."

"He's using a holodrone," the Commander stated. "Come out so that we may kill you!"

The Heretic Leader laughed before replying, "Get in line…"

"Where the line start," a Grunt questioned. The image of the Heretic disappeared, leaving the small squad of Covenant alone.

"Now me got a bad feeling," the second Grunt murmured.

"What the," an Elite shouted. The squad turned around, seeing tiny, bubbly looking creatures scurrying towards them.

"Stand firm," the Commander ordered, "It's the Flood!"

The Arbiter and the Commander unleashed their swords and waited for their enemy to come to them. The Elites and Grunts started firing their plasma weapons, burning through the popping creatures. What the Covenant squad didn't realize was that Infectious Forms were sneaking down from behind, heading towards corpses that were already piled up in the corners of the room. The Flood Combat Forms rose up from the dead and slowly stalked forwards.

"Eat it bitch," a Grunt shouted, firing his plasma pistol at high velocity. Suddenly, the cocky Grunt was lifted up off the ground. The alien started screaming and flailing its limbs around wildly. The other Grunt and the four Elites turned around, seeing Combat Forms coming towards them. "I'll kill you assholes!" The Grunt pulled out two plasma grenades, one in each hand, then lit them up before he exploded along with half of the Combat Forms.

"By the bleeding Prophets," one Elite muttered.

"Pay attention," the Commander shouted. The Covenant forces turned around and started firing at the infectious forms again. "Go Arbiter! I'll hold these Parasites off and follow behind you once reinforcements arrive!"

"You got it boss," the Arbiter replied, more than eager to get away from the Flood. The Elites and now the lone Grunt followed the Arbiter through the doors and onto an elevator. "What is it with elevators in this accursed place?"

"Maybe our ancestors liked to ride in elevators," one Elite replied.

"Elevators better than stairs," the only Grunt added.

"Above," the second Elite shouted. "Sentinels and the Flood! They attack from above!"

"Damn it," Arbiter roared. "Why do we always ride on things that make us easy targets?"

The Flood started jumping down onto the elevator from above as the Sentinels fired their lasers. A few of the Parasites attacked the Sentinels, but the others were focused on the only other life forms available. Arbiter roared as he stabbed upward with his sword, slicing a Combat Form cleanly in half. Several dozen Combat Forms landed on the elevator and rushed towards the Covenant forces while even more of the Flood rained down from above.

One Combat Form rushed the Arbiter and was swiftly cut down. Another pair of Combat Forms started firing at the Arbiter, who quickly rushed for cover. As Arbiter rounded a corner, a Combat Form lashed its tentacle out at him. The Elite ducked then sliced the limb off. The Flood zombie shrieked in pain, but was swiftly silenced when the Arbiter sliced it in half. The other two pursuing Combat Forms were taken down by a group of four Sentinels. Arbiter rushed out, pulling out a plasma rifle and unleashed a volley of fire upon the floating defenders. He took two out before the remainder of the Sentinels started firing at him. Arbiter rolled behind cover as the lasers started tearing about all around him.

"Cursed Sentinels!" Arbiter turned the corner then hurled a plasma grenade that stuck on one Sentinel. The grenade exploded, destroying both of the floating guardians. "We can't stay on this elevator much longer! We have to—oh…" The Arbiter looked around, realizing the only three aliens with him had already been killed. "Well son of a…"

Arbiter looked over, seeing a low flying Sentinel. Quickly, the Elite rushed forward and dove onto it. The Arbiter growled as he forced the Sentinel downward. He figured this would be faster, and safer, than standing on a slow moving elevator while Flood and other Sentinels tired to kill him. Unfortunately, one Sentinel spotted him and fired. The beam tore through the Sentinel Arbiter was riding on. The Elite roared in anger as the Sentinel started spinning out of control with fire and smoke flowing out of it. He saw a nearby platform and dove for it. A grunt escaped from his mouth as he latched his hands onto the ledge as the Sentinel went down in a smoking heap behind him. The Arbiter pulled himself up then quickly rushed inside of the door in front of him.

The Arbiter entered a hallway littered with Heretic bodies. "Even the Heretics do not deserve the fate of becoming a parasite…each of these bodies is but a vessel for the Flood."

"_Arbi…do you read m…"_ The Arbiter held his hand up to the side of his head, trying to listen through the static. _"The storm will hit the facili…you must kill the Heretic Lea…now!"_

"I'll guess that was 'kill the Heretic Leader now.' Not much I can do if I can't find him though…"

Arbiter continued through the facility, eventually ending up in a laboratory with Flood all around him and Heretics high above. The Arbiter was crouched in cover while plasma weapons tore all around him, and Flood Carrier Forms started exploding. Arbiter sighed before sitting down on the ground, deciding to let the Flood and Heretics duke it out, and then mop up what was left.

Suddenly though, the door to the back of the room opened up, revealing reinforcements for the Heretics. Arbiter quickly rose to his feet and rushed for the door, unleashing his energy sword. A pair of Grunts carrying plasma turrets readied their weapons and started blasting into the Flood and at the Arbiter.

"Die Covenant scum," the Heretic Grunt firing at the Arbiter shouted.

"You first!" Arbiter hurled a plasma grenade, sticking the Grunt right in the face. The alien blew up as Arbiter dove behind the nearest bit of cover.

One Heretic Elite wielding a sword barked towards his comrade. The Elite got on the plasma turret then started firing at the Arbiter's cover.

The Arbiter growled before rushing out of cover and charging the Heretic enemies. The Grunt and Elite on the turrets aimed and fired. The Arbiter jumped back and forth, weaving through the chain of fire before throwing another plasma grenade. The turret the Grunt was using was stuck. A second later, an explosion destroyed the turret and blew the Grunt to pieces. There were now only three Heretic Elites left, and a load of Flood Combat Forms now chasing the Arbiter.

The sword-wielding Heretic roared and charged with the other Elite, not on the turret. The Arbiter swiped at the Elite with the sword, crossing blades with him. The other Elite, wielding two plasma rifles, attempted to bash the Arbiter's head in. The Covenant soldier quickly jumped back for the strike, and spun around with his sword lashing out as he sliced through four Combat Forms in one swing. The Arbiter landed and spun around to the Heretics. The plasma rifle wielding Elite hurled a grenade forward. The Arbiter ducked and rushed forward under the grenade as it stuck a Combat Form attempting to strike him. The grenade blew up, blowing a group of Combat Forms to pieces. The Arbiter sliced through another Combat Form before turning and blocking a strike from the sword wielding Heretic. The Arbiter socked the Elite across the face before taking his enemy's plasma pistol. The gun started to charge before Arbiter released the trigger, lowering the plasma rifle wielding Heretic's shields. The Heretic gasped and looked as his shields sparked with little life left before he was overwhelmed by Combat and Infections Forms.

The Arbiter turned and charged the plasma pistol, ready to shoot the other Heretic. But before that could happen, the Heretic's sword sliced upward, severing the weapon in two. Arbiter growled then crossed swords with his opponent yet again. Plasma fire ripped over the Arbiter's head, causing him to duck and fall back. The sword wielding Heretic moved to attack, but was cut off by Combat Forms.

The Arbiter ducked and spun under plasma fire before he rushed forward. The Elite was surprisingly accurate with the turret, ripping through the Arbiter's shielding in no time. The Arbiter growled and did a very reckless move: he hurled his energy sword forward. The weapon flew end over end through the air and towards the Heretic gunner. The Elite realized that the Arbiter's attack was actually going to work and attempted to flee. He got off the turret, but the flying energy sword cut through the turret and stabbed itself through the Elite's back. The Heretic cried out in pain before it fell to the ground in a lifeless heap with the energy sword still imbedded into its back.

The Arbiter stared at the lifeless body for a moment before he ducked upon hearing the last Heretic screaming at him. The now unarmed Arbiter paced backwards as the Heretic came at him in a flying rage. Arbiter grabbed the Heretic by the wrist before the sword could slash him. He spun the Heretic around, twisting his wrist and pulling his arm up high behind his back. With a satisfying crack, the Heretic cried out and released his sword. The Arbiter took the sword and stabbed through the Heretic's back and into a Flood Carrier Form. The bulbous form exploded, launching the now dead Heretic and the Arbiter flying back. Luckily, the Heretic took most of the blast, leaving the Arbiter unharmed.

The Arbiter rolled the corpse off him and grabbed his personal sword and looked up. There were exactly a dozen Combat Forms left for him to face. With two swords in hand, the Arbiter lowered down with a grin on his face.

"Bring it on…"

The Combat Forms charged with a bone-chilling shriek. The Arbiter rushed forward, roaring at the top of his lungs. A few Combat Forms leapt into the air, landing behind the Arbiter to trap him in a circle. The Elite looked around, scowling angrily as he watched the Parasite closely.

One rushed forward, flailing its arm around wildly. The Arbiter stabbed through it with one thrust. A second Combat Form moved to attack from behind. Arbiter yanked his sword out, using his elbow to bash the Flood Elite's face. The zombie staggered before the Arbiter used his other sword to slice it in half. The Combat Form that the Arbiter stabbed wasn't dead yet, and moved to attack him. The Arbiter spun around, ducking under the Combat Form's strike and sliced its legs off at the knees. The Combat Form hit the ground, still not entirely dead. The Arbiter stabbed his sword through the Flood alien and through the floor. Another Combat Form rushed him. The Arbiter swung upward, his sword tearing through the ground and slicing the front of the Combat Form's body open. The Flood fell backwards in a motionless heap. The Arbiter then ducked under a Flood's tentacle and sliced its body cleanly in half and then used his other sword to slice another Combat Form in half.

The remaining Flood Combat Forms stayed still, twitching slowly as they took more caution towards their opponent. Something the Arbiter found rather unsettling. Two Combat Forms rushed the Arbiter on either side. The Elite thrusted his arms outward, stabbing through both of the zombies. Arbiter roared as he spun around, his swords tearing through the Combat Forms and slicing through another charging pair of Flood. The Arbiter stopped spinning and stabbed forward with one sword and extended one of his legs straight backwards, kicking one Combat Form in the privates. The zombie surprisingly fell to its knees with a pained gurgle. The Arbiter used his second sword to slice the Combat Form he already stabbed in half. He turned to the Combat Form on its knees then lifted his arm high above his head before bringing the blade down through the Parasite.

The Arbiter swung his arm in an upward motion behind him, slicing an attacking Combat Form's arm off. He roared as he plowed his other sword through it's chest, lifted it high above his head and then slammed it onto the ground. He pulled his blade out of the beast's chest and then used his hoof to crush the Parasite in the Combat Form's chest. The last Combat Form rushed forward as the Arbiter spun around, stabbing both swords through its chest. Time paused for a moment until the Arbiter, with a mighty roar, ripped the blades out of the body of the Flood form.

The Arbiter let the two halves of the body hit the floor and stood in silence for a moment. He looked to his left and then to his right, seeing that everything in the room was dead. "And of course nobody was around to witness that…"

"_Arbiter are you there? This is __Rtas 'Vadumee, are you there?"_

"Who is this," the Arbiter asked.

"_The Commander in charge of this mission."_

"Oh, what's up chuck?"

"_The Heretic Leader locked himself—and don't call me chuck, locked himself inside the facility!"_

"And of course I'm supposed to go and kill him, despite the overwhelming risk towards myself."

"_Not quite. I've sent in a squad of specialists to move in and cut the cable holding this station up! After they cut the cable, we have no doubt that the Heretic will make a run for it! Grab a Banshee and make sure he doesn't escape in that Seraph fighter in the hanger!"_

"So let me get this straight: you guys are going to cut the cables holding this facility up, and while it's in free-fall into a maelstrom I have to run back through this entire place and kill this guy instead of us just using a Phantom or something else to blow up the hanger?"

"_Hey, you're the one who needs redeemed honor, not the rest of us."_ The Arbiter growled under his breath. The station suddenly bucked beneath the Elite's feet, almost causing him to fall over. _"The cable has been cut! Hurry Arbiter! We'll stay with you for as long as we can!"_

"Knowing my luck that won't be long…" The Arbiter rushed outside of the laboratory, and ever so conveniently there was a Banshee waiting for him. He got inside and immediately sped off into the sky.

* * *

The Heretic Leader sealed off the door behind him, preventing any of the Parasite to follow behind him. He walked towards the Seraph and pressed a few buttons on his wrist. The hanger doors hissed with life before slowly opening. The wind was a minor annoyance, as he moved to the top of the Seraph. Moving towards the cockpit, he stopped for a moment and looked up. He saw a Banshee flying towards the hanger. The Heretic Leader growled then rushed forward, unable to shut the doors unless it was done manually. He punched the door controls, causing the doors themselves to start shutting again. The Banshee accelerated as the Heretic Leader backed away from the doors. The aircraft fired a few plasma rounds at the Heretic Leader who immediately dove for cover. The doors were about ready to close, and the idiot piloting the Banshee would crash into it and die. Surprisingly, the Banshee barely squeezed through the cracks in the door, ripping the top and bottom of the ship in half. The Arbiter flew out of the end of the Banshee, hitting the ground and rolling across the floor with a pained grunt. The Banshee crashed into the back wall, its flaming rubble piling around the locked door.

The Arbiter groaned as he slowly started to push himself up. Plasma fire starting hitting around him, causing Arbiter to spring to his feet and rush towards cover. The Arbiter growled, pulling out a single plasma rifle before coming out of cover to fire back. However, the Heretic Leader's dual plasma rifles were more than enough to keep the Arbiter pinned.

"Are you a coward Heretic," the Arbiter shouted.

The Heretic Leader laughed before taking a step back, "Arbiter, I'd rather die by your hands than let the Prophets lead me to slaughter!"

"Okay, I get it: you don't believe in the Great Journey," the Arbiter exclaimed with a wary tone. "But just who has taught you these lies?" Suddenly, a faint humming was heard. The Arbiter and the Heretic looked up, seeing a blue, metallic eye floating down towards them. "The Oracle?"

"Hello," the eye spoke, "I am 343 Guilty Spark, Monitor of Instillation 04." In awe of the relic's majesty, the Arbiter walked out from cover, gapping at the Monitor.

"Ask the Oracle about Halo. How they would sacrifice us all for NOTHING!" The Monitor turned to the Arbiter.

"More questions? Splendid, I would be happy to assist you." The Arbiter opened his mouth, but was cut off when plasma fire started ripping through his shields. The Arbiter quickly ran behind cover again as the Monitor floated away from the Heretic's fire.

"The Elites are blind Arbiter!" The Heretic Leader held up two holodrones, "But I…will make them see." He allowed the holodrones to float into the air, forming them into two copies of himself.

"Oh come on," the Arbiter exclaimed. He popped out of cover and hurled a plasma grenade at the three Heretic Leaders.

They all scattered as the grenade exploded, allowing the Arbiter to rush out of cover. Six sets of plasma rifles started firing at the Arbiter, who sprinted faster and dove forward as his active camouflage activated. The Heretic Leader and his holodrone copies looked around carefully for any signs of movement.

"Arbiter, show yourself!"

"Make me Heretic," the Arbiter shouted, his voice echoing off the walls.

The Heretic Leader scowled, floating in the air with his jetpack. "How did the Prophets buy your loyalty Arbiter? With a new command, a new fleet…or was it the promise…of their Great Journey?" One of the holodrone copies was sliced in half, destroying the device projecting the image. The two remaining Heretic Leaders turned and fired upon that area, but hit nothing. "Look around you Arbiter! This facility and dozens like it result in the study of the Parasite, but where are the weapons Arbiter? What was the result?" The Heretic Leader turned, aiming his plasma rifle down towards the ground. He saw nothing moving and continued: "All that time and effort and the best the Forerunners could do was put these foul creatures on ice!"

The second holodrone copy was sliced through by the Arbiter, who quickly dove through the flickering image before the last, and real, Heretic Leader opened fire. The Arbiter took cover under the Seraph. The Heretic Leader quickly fell to the ground, sweeping his plasma rifles across the hanger.

"You've left yourself open to my blade now," the Arbiter's voice whispered.

"Hardly," the Heretic Leader murmured. Suddenly, the Heretic spun around, blocking the Arbiter's sword with his forearm. The Arbiter grabbed the Heretic's other arm and aimed the plasma rifle into the air, letting the blue orbs fly into the air. "Where are these 'Gods' that the Prophets would have us worship?"

"They've transcended into godhood you fool," the Arbiter shouted.

"Transcended," the Heretic Leader repeated with a mocking tone in his voice. "They all perished!" The Heretic Leader wrenched his wrist free and then brought it down over the Arbiter's arm. The Arbiter screamed in pain as he dropped his sword. The Heretic Leader kneed the Arbiter in the gut then shoved him away onto his back. Slowly, the Heretic bent down to pick up the sword. "The Prophets do not offer salvation. Only I, Sesa 'Refumee, offer salvation for the Covenant! Following the Prophets will lead us all to destruction, just like the Forerunners Arbiter! But you have no reason to believe me." The Arbiter rose up to strike back, but Sesa's plasma rifle shot through his shields, burning into his gut. The Arbiter groaned, holding his bleeding stomach as he fell back to the ground. Sesa walked forward and towered over the Arbiter before raising his sword above his head. "Let me show you where they've gone Arbiter…"

In one downward slash, Sesa tore through the Arbiter. However, to his shock he realized that this Arbiter was a copy projected by one of his very own holodrones. Sesa spun around, barely blocking a strike from the real Arbiter. The Heretic attempted to shoot him at point blank, but the Arbiter quickly swatted the gun out of his hands. Sesa stepped back as the Arbiter pulled his arm back for a swing. The Heretic ducked under the Arbiter's strike and quickly moved to get to the Seraph. The Arbiter spun around quickly and sliced one of the engines to the Heretic's jetpack. Sesa stumbled forward, allowing the Arbiter to catch up to him quickly. The Heretic turned around, lashing the sword out which was blocked. The Arbiter lashed out, which Sesa barely blocked. The attack caused the Heretic to stumble back and fall to the ground. The Heretic moved to attack, but the Arbiter's hoof planted firmly against his wrist, preventing him from moving. The Arbiter lowered his sword, pointing the tips of it at Sesa's face.

"I am the Arbiter. The Will of the Prophets." Sesa struggled to break free from the Arbiter's hoof. "You are a hindrance to the Great Journey, and by the decree of the Prophets, you must die by my hand. The hand of Thel 'Vadamee, the new Arbiter!" Thel raised his sword up and then plunged it through Sesa's chest. The Heretic cried out in pain until the Arbiter tore his sword out of his chest, letting him fall to a lifeless heap.

Thel started to drag Sesa's corpse towards the hanger doors as the Monitor floated down to him. "Unfortunate. His edification was most enjoyable."

"I had no choice Holy Oracle," the Arbiter replied as he let Sesa's body fall to the ground. "This Heretic imperiled the Great Journey."

"Oracle? Great Journey? Why do you meddlers insist on using such inaccurate verbiage-," Suddenly, the Monitor sparked briefly, causing Thel to pull his head back with surprise. The Monitor started to get pulled backwards by an unknown force. "Ohhhhhh MYYYYY!" The Monitor stuck to the top of the gravity hammer wielded by Tartarus, the Brute Chieftain.

"That is the Oracle," the Arbiter shouted with disbelief.

"Oh really? No shit genius," Tartarus snapped as he yanked the blue ball off his hammer. The ape casually tossed it behind his back and into the grav lift of the Phantom where it was sucked into the ship. "Come on, we're leaving this system!"

"Wait, can we seriously just yank our forefathers' holy remnants around like that?"

"Do you really want to talk about this now, or would you like to leave before we all get sucked in by that maelstrom?"

"Coming," Thel shouted hastily as he rushed forward behind Tartarus. The Brute stepped into the grav lift and was pulled inside of the Phantom, followed shortly by the Arbiter. The Phantom pulled out, quickly shooting into the sky as the Forerunner facility was sucked into the storm and effectively destroyed, along with all the Flood and Heretics on it.

**

* * *

Hm…I'm not sure why this chapter is so long. Maybe it's because I combined the Arbiter's two levels into one? Or towards the end I lightened up on the jokes and gave the Arbiter more action than dialogue? I dunno, regardless, the Arbiter only gets one chapter. Unlike the Reds who get two in a row. Man, after writing this chapter I almost forgot I was writing an RvB fic lol. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed the Arbiter's chapter, because next up will be the Red Team again!  
Oh, speaking of Red Team, guess who now owns the Recollection Trilogy, as well as the Blood Gulch Chronicles remastered? That's right. This guy! Just thought I'd share that with everyone lol. For anyone whose wondering: I got them both at Best Buy for like ten bucks cheaper than .com.  
Anyway, now I'm done, so leave a review if you enjoyed this chapter.**


	6. Once More With Feeling

In deep space, a Covenant Cruiser housing the Prophet of Regret, and of course countless other Covenant soldiers, came out of slipspace with debris from New Mombasa and the UNSC frigate In Amber Clad coming out behind it.

Inside the bridge, Miranda Keyes jerked forward with a pained grunt. Immediately she turned to her crew, "Report!"

"Both engine cores have spun to zero," one helmsmen replied. "We're drifting."

"Archer pods are cold," another added, "I'll need to rekey the system."

"Do it and find out where we are. And someone get me my damn coffee!" Miranda pressed a button on her command chair's arm, "Sorry for the quick jump guys. Johnson, you and the Reds in one piece?"

"I'm good," Johnson replied with a manly grunt before sticking a cigar in his mouth. "Boys?"

"Oh yeah, we're just fine," Cortana answered. "Except Grif threw up in his helmet."

"_It's really gross Sarge,"_ Donut complained over the comms.

"I bet, but you're the only one with enough cleaning experience to get that puke smell out of Grif's helmet. Plus no other soldier can tolerate his ugly face for more than five minutes!"

"_Was that last part really necessary? You've already gotten your daily insults towards me for the week!"_

"But we jumped halfway across the universe! Who knows how far behind I could be now?"

"Men," Cortana snapped. "When you're done bickering, I'd just like to let you guys know: we arrived at a second Halo." Sarge, Johnson, Simmons, Grif, and Donut all snapped their heads towards the nearest monitor. Johnson coughed, choking on the smoke from his own cigar.

"Say WHAT?"

"Sweet jibbly jiblets," Sarge exclaimed. Grif's heaving sounds could be heard over the radio.

"_Permission to freak out sir,"_ Donut requested.

"Permission granted!" Donut's shrilled screams blared over the radios, but the Reds and Johnson could care less.

"This is such fucking bullshit," Simmons shouted in a rage. "It took us forever to destroy that last Halo, and now there's two of them!"

"Simmons, control your anger issue," Sarge snapped.

"God damn it: I DON'T HAVE AN ANGER CONTROL ISSUE! I JUST THINK THIS IS BULL SHI-," Miranda muted Simmons' radio, staring at the massive ring construct before her.

"So this is what my father found," she whispered. "I thought Halo was supposed to be some sort of super weapon."

"It is," Cortana replied with a solemn tone. "And if activated, that ring will unleash destruction on a galactic scale."

"Cortana, I want any and all information you got on the first Halo. I don't care if I have the clearance or not."

"Yes ma'am."

"Where's our target," Miranda questioned.

"The enemy ship has stopped above the ring, we're gonna pass right over it," an officer replied.

"Good. Given what we know about the ring, it's even more important we capture the Prophet of Regret. Find out why he came to Earth, why he came here. And seriously, someone: my fucking coffee! Sarge, Simmons, you take the first platoon; hard drop, secure the first landing zone. Johnson, you take Donut and Grif, load up two flights of Pelicans and follow them in."

"Aye, aye ma'am," Johnson replied. The door to his pod opened, and the Major Sergeant walked out, pounding his fist against Sarge's door.

"_Until I can move and fight, I'm going to keep a low profile guys. Once you leave the ship, you're on your own."_

"Understood ma'am," Sarge exclaimed, pounding on the edge of his pod in response to Johnson. "Simmons, you ready?"

"He's muted remember," Cortana reminded.

Sarge chuckled before looking up a bit, "I know. He's gonna throw a fit once we drop."

"Oh you're evil," Cortana replied with an obvious smile in her tone. A countdown appeared on Sarge's monitor. "Hold onto your helmet!" The pods dropped out of the bottom of the ship. The pods plummeted towards the ring, tearing through the atmosphere, building up the head inside. The parachutes opened up, causing the pods to jerk up a bit. "Mind the bump."

* * *

On Delta Halo, a Jackal walked along the shore calmly, minding its own business. Suddenly, it noticed the flaming pods falling from the sky and snarled angrily. A Grunt yelped in shock, also seeing the flaming pods before it jumped into a nearby Shade turret and began firing. Two more Shades opened fire upon the pods as they came crashing to the ground.

Sarge's pod hit the ground, causing the Red Spartan to grunt forcefully. He kicked the hatch off of his door and stepped out, scanning the nearby area with his shotgun. "Could we POSSIBLY make anymore noise," Cortana screamed. A Shade started firing upon the Spartan, causing him to duck in cover. A rocket soon whizzed by and destroyed the Shade. Sarge turned his head, seeing Simmons screaming in pure fury as he ran forward, firing his rocket launcher at the enemy. "I guess so," the AI said smugly.

"COME ON YOU ALIEN BASTARDS," Simmons shouted, reloading his rocket launcher. "You're all going to get Simmon-sized!"

"Did he just say Simmon-sized," Cortana questioned.

"Don't stop him now! He's becoming the maroon hulk!"

A pause. "He's going to die isn't he?"

"Probably," Sarge replied.

Another pause. "And what should you do as his commanding officer?" Sarge lowered his head and sighed.

"Alright, I'll go ahead and fight."

"Good boy." Sarge rushed forward, moving to back up Simmons.

Simmons blasted the last turret with his rocket launcher, having one last one rocket left. An Elite rushed forward, roaring and firing at the maroon Spartan. Simmons screamed, kicking the Elite in the stomach. The alien doubled over in pain. Simmons swung his rocket launcher upward with all his strength, bashing the barrel of it against the Elite's jaw. The alien was lifted off its feet, landing hard on its back. Simmons placed his boot against the alien's throat and fired his last rocket at the reinforcements coming out of the temple. The explosion destroyed the support pillars for the temple which caused the ancient structure to collapse in on itself, crushing the Covenant forces under piles of rubble. The Elite roared, grabbing Simmons' ankle and throwing him off. The alien got up, readying its plasma rifle to kill the maroon Spartan. Before it could fire, a shotgun blast went off through its chest, blowing its ribs out. The alien gurgled a mouthful of blood before it fell forward, right at Simmons' feet.

"You okay Maroon 1," Sarge asked.

"YOU DIDN'T TELL ME WE WERE DROPPING COCK-BITE!"

"You were screaming too much, you didn't hear us," Cortana replied sarcastically. Simmons remained silent, putting his hand to the side of his helmet.

"That does sound like me…"

"Come on let's move," Sarge ordered. "Johnson, we need a hog down here, and I don't mean Grif."

"_Roger that, hold that position until we get there."_

"Can do," Sarge replied.

A few long moments passed. Simmons paced back and forth, still muttering angrily to himself. Sarge polished his shotgun as he sat on an Elite's back. A pair of ODSTs sat next to each other on the pile of rubble that use to be a Forerunner temple.

"Okay," one ODST began, "I spy something…that begins with a-,"

"Dirt," the second one replied.

"Damn it! How'd you-,"

"Well because you did rock last time, and that's all that's out here is rock and dirt." The ODST remained silent before looking back out into the ocean.

"You're right. This game sucks."

"My turn. I spy something that begins with a…W."

"A 'W?' What the fuck?"

"Water genius." The ODST pointed out to the vast ocean before them.

"Oh…"

"Eyes up," Sarge exclaimed. "Johnson's bringing in the hog!" A pair of Pelicans dropped down, hovering above the ground before each released a Warthog in front of the Spartans and ODSTs. Out of one of the Pelicans came Grif and Donut.

"Men," Sarge began, a speech building behind his voice, "An army of marauding, ruthless, and super-powerful aliens of all different shapes and sizes with a vast and ultra strong artillery stands between us and the Prophet of Regret." Sarge cocked his shotgun before moving towards the nearest Warthog. As soon as the Red commander sat down he turned to his men, "Let's get to work!"

Donut, Grif, and Simmons all stood side by side in silence. Sarge's speech obviously didn't do anything to boost their morale. "Sir, as appealing as your plan sounds," Grif began, "We have no idea where the Prophet is."

"_I got a good view coming in,"_ Johnson intervened over the radio. _"There's a big building in the middle of this island's lake."_

"_I saw it too,"_ Cortana replied. _"It looks like a temple. If I were a megalomaniac—and I'm not—that's where I'd be."_

"Right, you're totally not an egotistical bitch," Simmons murmured.

"Simmons," Sarge growled. The maroon soldier muttered under his breath and walked over to the turret of the second Warthog. "Grif, saddle up in the other Warthog!"

"I still say this damn thing looks more like a puma," Grif replied as he made his way to the vehicle.

"Why are you bringing this up now," Simmons questioned.

"I'm just saying. In this light it seriously looks like a puma."

"Grif, we'll settle this bet later with a good ass-whooping after we kill the Prophet. Until then: we've still got a Prophet to kill!"

"Really," Grif asked sarcastically. "I had no fucking clue sir." Donut got in the shotgun seat of Grif's Warthog while the two ODSTs piled into Sarge's.

"Move out," Sarge barked as he floored on ahead.

The squad got to a large temple structure which rested on the end of a canyon. On the other side of the canyon were a pair of Wraiths which started launching bombs. Sarge violently spun his Warthog around to the entrance of the temple and got out along with the pair of marines.

"What the hell is he doing," Grif asked.

"How the fuck should I know," Simmons snapped.

"_There are controls for the bridge inside this temple,"_ Cortana answered. _"Sarge and I are going in to extend the bridge."_

"Uh…I don't think that's the best of ideas," Donut murmured as he looked across the canyon. Standing in front of the two Wraiths were nearly a hundred Covenant soldiers lined up in rank.

Grunts with giant plasma coils strapped to their backs were in front, followed by regular armed Grunts, and then Grunts with fuel rod cannons. Behind the Grunts were Jackals, all of which activated their shields. Behind them were Elites upon Elites, all lead by Zealot. The golden Elite activated a sword and unleashed a roar that echoed over the canyon.

A loud noise was heard and the bridge slowly started to slide down from the temple. _"What'd ya say Donut,"_ Sarge asked over the radio.

"Son of a bitch," Grif muttered.

"We're gonna die," Donut shrieked.

The Covenant forces sat foot on the bridge and marched forward. The Grunts fired around the temple in hopes of hitting the three Red morons. Grif, Simmons, and Donut screamed as they flew around in the Warthog, shifting between plasma fire and fuel rod blasts. The Zealot moved behind the infantry, roaring motivational and threatening rants to move the soldiers forward.

"I'm totally freaking out," Donut screamed.

"Sarge do something," Simmons yelled over the comms.

As the Covenant started closing in, there was a thunderous sound that caused the Covenant to stop in their tracks. Everything froze until the bridge started pulling forward. The Covenant screamed, roared, and chattered as they now sprinted towards land as the bridge was once again being pulled up in front of the temple. Many of the Covenant forces just jumped off the ledge to get it over with, but others futilely tried to get to the other side of the bridge.

"Simmons, fire at them," Grif shouted.

"Oh right!" The maroon Spartan began unloading shells from the Warthog's turret, mowing down the closer Covenant soldiers. "Yeah, suck it bitches! Get some! Come on!"

The bridge finally stopped once fully pulled back up the side of the temple and countless Covenant soldiers fell to their deaths. After a few seconds, the bridge started to move back out across the canyon. The Reds looked over, seeing their leader walking around the corner with a confident stride.

"Hehe, had ya scared didn't I?"

"Sarge, how the hell did you do that," Grif questioned.

"It's the old 'pull-the-carpet-out-from-under-em' tactic! Although that maneuver I just pulled was a little more literal than the actual tactic. Still worked nonetheless. Simmons, how will killing that many Covenant troops at once look on my resume?"

"Actually, really good sir. You might actually get promoted. Which means I could become leader of the Red Team!"

"Uh, Simmons, you sure you wanna be in charge of me and Donut?"

"Awe man, that means we'd get a new rookie on the team! Man that'll be great. We can be all like, 'screw off noob,' or, 'go get my hand lotion noob!' Having a new guy is gonna be great!"

"Yeah, I can hardly handle one idiot rookie, I don't wanna try two," Simmons replied to Grif.

"Keep movin men," Sarge barked. "We've got a Prophet to brutally slaughter!"

"Uh, sir, there's no room for you in here," Grif replied. "Are you gonna walk or something?"

"Nope. Simmons, get out of the vehicle!"

"You're making me walk?"

"Just get out of the vehicle!" The maroon soldier murmured angrily as he got out and walked towards Sarge. "As some of you may or may not know, Simmons use to be a member of a marine strike team that was in charge of boarding and capturing a Covenant cruiser. Obviously, the mission was a complete failure! Everyone on the mission was killed before the seemingly limitless Covenant numbers!"

"Wait, I don't remember any of this," Simmons replied.

"Of course not! You've repressed so much I wouldn't be surprised if you couldn't even remember your tenth birthday!"

"I totally remember…wait…I think I…weren't you there Grif?"

"What, dude, we met on the Pillar of Autumn before we went to Halo!"

"Nu-uh, that was Sarge!"

"Simmons you've been in the same unit with Sarge for years now!"

"Naturally repressing the events of his own death, and some UNSC memory recalibrating, Simmons knew not what truly happened. There were no remains of the other marines in Simmons' squad, but all that was left of our fellow maroon second here was a torso, half an arm, two-thirds of his head, a pinkie, one-sixteenth of his left testicle-,"

"What the hell?"

Sarge continued through Simmons' outburst, "and one of his big toes. The UNSC, for whatever reason, wanted Simmons to come back. Whether it was so they could have someone to kiss their ass, or to put someone else moderately competent on this team I DON'T KNOW!"

"But Simmons still is a whole person," Donut replied. "If what you're saying is true then how come Simmons has all his limbs?"

"You ever seen the Six Million Dollar Man?"

"What the," Simmons sputtered. "B-but to make me into a person from less than one-tenth of my natural body would cost billions and billions of dollars! The UNSC wouldn't waste that type of money on one person!"

"Not if they used doctors and surgeons. The UNSC went for a patriot, someone who would undergo such a rigorous, time-consuming process for next to nothing!"

"Oh lord," Grif murmured.

"Simmons…I _am_ your father!"

"Really…?"

Sarge smacked Simmons in the side of the head, "No ya idiot! I just brought you back to life! I used all sorts of mechanical parts to rebuild you. I couldn't use any super advanced mechanical parts though, so I used what I could get. Parts from destroyed vehicles, wreckage from a few UNSC frigates, and the fax machine."

"So, he's like Frankenstein?"

"No Donut, he's Simmons 2.0! I installed some nifty features into him too. Watch this. Simmons 2.0: motorcycle mode!" An electronic whirling was heard and Simmons straightened up as stiff as a board. Grif and Donut looked at each other then back at Simmons.

"Roger sir." Simmons got on his hands and feet, like a crouching predator ready to pounce. Like something out of a Michael Bay film, mechanical parts, gears and all sorts of different contraptions started coming out of Simmons' body. Grif and Donut leaned forward with shock before whipping their heads to each other and then back at the fully transformed Simmons. Sarge chuckled as he sat in the seat of his Simmons-Mongoose.

"See, ain't that cool?"

"Sir, why did you only bring this up now," Grif asked.

"I never had a good time to bring it up in conversation soldier!" Sarge grabbed the handles of his Simmons-goose and revved the engine loudly. "Head em up and move em out!" The Red Team flew off down the road, towards their intended target.

* * *

In a Forerunner temple, several Elite Honor Guards walked around, securing the area in case any human pigs tried to enter the sacred place. The Prophet of Regret sat in his floating throne, observing his followers carefully. One Elite approached the Prophet and kneeled before him.

"Noble Prophet of Regret: we have confirmed that the Demons are here, all four of them." The Prophet turned his throne to the Elite and pressed a button on the arm of the floating device. A power pair of beams blasted the Elite, vaporizing it into dust.

"I want the Demons dead! Do you hear me? I want their heads in a pile at my feet so I can play croquet! I want to play marbles with their eyes! I want their brains to fry on my skillet so I can cook them like raw hamburger! Do you understand me?"

One Elite leaned to another, "By the ancients, he has some problems." The whispering Elite was vaporized in an instant, causing the second one to look at the Prophet fearfully.

"KILL THE DEMONS YOU IDIOTS!" All the Elites rushed out of the room, leaving the Prophet in silence.

* * *

"Off the rock," Sarge yelled, hurling a rock at an Honor Guard in a separate temple. The rock smashed the Guard's skull, causing it to roar in agony as it fell to the ground, blood spurting from its head. "Through the bush…" Sarge ducked and rushed under plasma and bullet fire from his team and the remaining forests. The Red commander dove forward, grabbing a rocket launcher as he rolled over into a crouched position, having a perfect shot at the Covenant forces hiding behind a fallen pillar. The Covenant looked over at Sarge with panicked expressions. "Nothin but Jackal!" Sarge fired the rocket, blowing a handful of Covenant forces into massive, bloody chunks.

Sarge sighed lightly, tossing the rocket launcher over his shoulder. The other Reds got out of cover and followed Sarge towards the front of the temple. As they passed a hologram of the Prophet of Regret, something caught Cortana's virtual ear.

"Wait, go back!" Sarge placed his hand on the holo-projector and Cortana's avatar popped up. "That's what I thought he said." Cortana turned to the Reds, "The Prophet of Regret is planning to activate Halo."

"What the," Simmons exclaimed.

"You're sure," Sarge asked. Cortana snapped her fingers, translation Regret's words into English.

"I shall light this Holy Ring, release its cleansing flames, and burn a path into the divine beyond!" Cortana snapped her fingers again, freezing Regret's hologram.

"Pretty much," Cortana replied smugly.

"In Amber Clad, we've got a problem," Sarge stated.

"_So I heard,"_ Miranda's voice came through. _"But from what I understand the Prophet will need an object, the Index, to activate the ring. I've located a library similar to the one you found on the first Halo."_

"We don't have to go back do we," Grif asked. "Last time we did was horrible. Sarge did nothing while reading Twilight! I vowed never to go back to any library ever again."

"Did you ever go to a library before," Simmons angrily snapped.

"Well no, but now I'll definitely never go to one ever again."

"_Johnson and I will take a team to get the Index. You four just worry about taking out the Prophet. He's given us all the intel we need…"_

"Yes ma'am," Sarge replied, placing his hand through Cortana's avatar. "We could fly over there in a Pelican if you've got one to spare ma'am."

"_You got it Sarge. I'm sending one over now, but Regret has a lot of air-traffic around all of the temples. Getting to them may be a bit of a hassle. It could be easier to just to go on foot."_

"Easy-smeezy, we're flyin this mission! Simmons 2.0: flight mode!" The electronic whirling sound began again, and Simmons was now in full robot mode. The maroon cyborg began to transform again, this time into a small aircraft only seated for one.

"Grif, get inside Simmons and start clearing the skies!"

"Awe man, you're so lucky Grif," Donut whined.

"Uh…why me sir? You have more experience with uh…Simmons 2.0."

"Because I can't fly this thing! Why do you think I agreed to have you in this squad? It's because you're the resident driver and/or pilot of the team! You know how to fly most aircrafts, so get inside Simmons and do your business."

"…I'm getting sweaty," Grif whimpered as he entered Simmons' cockpit. As soon as the hatch closed, an annoying pop song started playing. "How the hell do you turn off the fucking radio in this thing?"

"Bring him back in one piece," Sarge shouted. "Come on Donut, let's get to that Pelican!" The two remaining Reds rushed towards the nearest landing zone, seeing the bird as nothing more than a dot in the distance.

"Whoa, we're really high up," Grif stated with a high pitched tone.

"Warning," Simmons' robotic voice spoke, emphasizing every syllable, "Covenant Banshees coming in."

"Oh shit, what do I do?"

"Try shooting, cockbite."

"Oh, right." Grif spun Simmons 2.0 around, seeing a fleet of a dozen Banshees coming towards them. The orange Spartan started firing the machine guns, tearing through the first unfortunate Banshee in seconds. "Holy shit, that was awesome! What other weapons do you have?"

"Missiles."

"How do I fire those?"

"Hit the button that says 'missiles' dumbass." Grif looked up, seeing a red button that read 'missiles.'

"Oh, cool." Grif hit the button, firing a barrage of missiles, blowing three Banshees to pieces. "Holy crap! I like Simmons 2.0 better than regular Simmons!"

"Fuck you."

Grif fired the machine gun, drifting to the side as a Banshee rushed towards him. He managed to take out one of the wings on the aircraft, causing it to spiral out of control and explode.

"_Grif, we're in the Pelican,"_ Sarge snapped, _"We're taking a pounding from the Banshees! Take em out with Simmons' secret weapon!"_

"Secret weapon," Grif repeated. The Spartan looked around before finally noticing a button that read 'super secret laser weapon.' Grif pressed down on the button. Simmons started shifting his outer shape a bit. A large cannon formed at the nose of the Simmons-craft. "Hey Sarge, I'mma firin ma laser!" Grif pressed the fire button, unleashing a devastating laser blast that eradicated five Banshees in one hit. The only remaining Banshee spun around quickly and crashed itself into the nearest wall. "Hell yeah, that was so cool! You only wish you were that awesome!"

"…_Grif…did you just say you were firin ur laser?"_

"Uh…yes sir. I was just caught up in the moment." There was a prolonged silence before Sarge eventually sighed.

"_My respect for you has hit an all time low…"_

"_Don't worry Grif, I thought it was clever."_

"Whatever Donut," the orange Spartan murmured. "Let's just go die trying to kill this Prophet already."

"_That's the spirit! Hey, who wants to sing ninety nine bottles of bear on the wall?"_

Grif sighed, shaking his head as he flew alongside the Pelican, "This is gonna be a long fucking flight…"

* * *

The Prophet murmured to himself, in a meditative like trance. One Grunt walked in, trembling fiercely as he approached the Prophet.

"Excuse me your lordship but-," In a flash, the Grunt was missing his head, melted away by an overcharged plasma pistol. The Prophet of Regret placed the pistol back in his lap before turning towards the entrance of the temple.

"Release the Jackals." An Honor Guard walked in with a pair of rabid, snarling and drooling Jackals. The Elite barked fiercely, pulling on the Jackals' leashes. "Clean up this mess." The Elite nodded then released the Jackals and allowed them to run up and start snacking on the Grunt's headless corpse. "You wouldn't know what this poor soul was going to tell me do you?"

"No, no idea whatsoever. I wouldn't have any idea as to why this Grunt would enter your chambers." The Prophet narrowed his bug-like eyes.

"It wouldn't have to do with him delivering bad news would it?"

"Nope, not at all your holiness. I have no idea why there would be any bad news to report. Things are running swimmingly. No Demons approaching in airships or anything like that." The Prophet's eyes narrowed even further. The Jackals finished eating the Grunt's remains before looking up at the Prophet.

"The demons are on their way here?" The Elite shifted nervously.

"N-nooo…" The Jackals looked over at the Elite then back at the Prophet.

The Prophet intertwined his hands together and narrowed his eyes even more. Leaning forward as he glared at the sweating Elite, the Prophet could tell he was lying. "Jackals," the Prophet threw his hand towards the Elite, "desert time." The pair of feral bird-like aliens looked at each other then scrambled towards the Elite.

The Prophet turned around slowly, huffing angrily. "Prepare the Guards! The Demons approach, and I'll be ready for them!" The Jackals looked up at the Prophet. One belched before they both went back to eating the Elite's corpse.

* * *

The Reds flew over the enormous lake, heading towards the coordinates where the Prophet of Regret was hiding out at. Sarge fired the turret out of the rear of the Pelican, taking out any Banshees that tried to flank them. Grif was taking on the majority of the Banshees that came from the front, since he had fully mobility unlike the bulky and massive Pelican. Donut sat in the co-pilot's seat, firing the chain gun in the front to help Grif take out the Banshees.

"Now this is interesting," Cortana murmured. "I just hacked into the Covenant's wi-fi and I got into Regret's email. Apparently he jumped the gun when he attacked Earth. He sent a formal apology to the other hierarchs in the Covenant, the Prophets of Truth and Mercy, and pleaded for their forgiveness. Judging from Truth's reply, I don't think Regret will be getting that anytime soon."

"Could you put that in a memo and entitle it 'SHIT FOR ANOTHER TIME?' I'm kinda busy Cortana!"

"Remember whose inside your head Sergeant," Cortana stated. "I could give you a searing migraine right now."

"And we could all die, including you."

"Touché."

"_PHANTOMS,"_ Grif shouted. A small blast shook the Pelican, almost throwing Sarge out of the bird. The familiar, feminine shriek of Donut came from the cockpit.

"Sarge, the pilot is dead!"

"What else is new," Sarge murmured. "Hold on Donut!" Sarge gunned down one last Banshee before running towards the cockpit.

The glass was blown out from the Phantom's turret, and the pilot's corpse was all but vaporized. Sarge grabbed the body and pitched it to the floor and sat in the bloodied seat. Sarge jerked the Pelican to the side, letting three Banshees from behind crash into the Phantom. The Covenant drop ship flickered, a few fires erupting from around the exterior.

Grif flew over Sarge's Pelican and fired a few missiles that took out the drop ship. Sarge looked forward, still seeing a large fleet of Banshees and Phantoms hovering around the temple.

"Sweet crispy cream," Sarge exclaimed. "Grif, Donut, open fire!"

Said Spartans fired a barrage of missiles forward before pulling up. The missiles took out a large number of Banshees, damaged a couple of Phantoms, and destroyed a few turrets set up around the base of the temple.

An Honor Guard on the ground, in charge of the defense of the holy temple, roared at a few soldiers that just came out. A large group of Grunts carried out a few more turrets and quickly set them up. Jackals with shields and plasma pistols crouched, holding their shields up to the sky and hissing angrily. As the turrets were set up, they were quickly occupied by Grunts. The other remaining Grunts pulled out fuel rod guns and started firing.

The Pelican began firing its turret, tearing through Banshees and pounding on the hulls of Phantoms. Grif strafed to the side, firing his turret nonstop. "This really sucks," Grif shouted.

"Tell me about it," Donut replied. "Sarge can't fly the Pelican!"

"And this stupid Simmons 2.0 is out of missiles!"

"It's not my fault you can't use Simmons 2.0 to its fullest extent! Get to the Pelican so we can switch!" A Banshee hit Simmons 2.0 in the rear, causing it to spin out of control. Grif screamed as he started to crash towards the Pelican.

Sarge jumped out of the cockpit as Grif jumped on the hull of the Pelican. The Red leader swan dived towards his crashing, cyborg, second-in-command, "Simmons 2.0, submersible mode!"

"Roger." Sarge grabbed the crashing aircraft just as they both hit the water with a splash.

Grif got into the pilot's seat, taking control of the Pelican quickly, "Grif, I think Sarge is dead! And Simmons too!"

"We're about to join them Donut," Grif screamed, jerking the Pelican to the side to avoid an onslaught of plasma fire. "Fire back at them!" Donut held down the fire button, tearing through Banshees and even punching through the hull of a Phantom.

A trio of Phantoms moved towards the side of the Pelican, bombarding it with plasma blasts. Suddenly, a laser tore through the bottom of the lead Phantom. Grif and Donut watched as the drop ship plummeted to the ground in a flaming heap. On the water's surface, the Spartans saw a robotic dolphin cruising along like a speed boat.

"What the hell is that thing," Grif asked.

"It's Sarge! See, I told Simmons he'd make such a pretty mermaid!"

"That was me Donut—you know what: fuck it. Simmons is a pretty little mermaid."

"_Keep firin ya idiots,"_ Sarge boomed over the comms. _"You can't let up for even a minute!"_

"Roger that sir," Donut replied.

* * *

Inside the Forerunner temple, the Prophet of Regret, with two nervous Honor Guards at his side, stared at the ceiling angrily. He could hear the sound of explosions and gunfire going on outside, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Tell me boys, how many ships do I have outside?"

"You have an entire fleet of Banshees and Phantoms," one Honor Guard boldly replied.

"And how many Demons are there…?"

"F-four…"

"So tell me…HOW THE HELL ARE THEY CAUSING US THIS MUCH TROUBLE?"

"Well if they couldn't cause trouble they wouldn't be Demons your holiness."

The silent Honor Guard and the Prophet looked over at the outspoken Elite. The Prophet looked at the Honor Guard then nodded. The Elite brutally and forcefully stabbed his energy sword through his comrade's stomach, causing him to roar out in pain. The Honor Guard pulled the sword out and let the dead body fall to the ground. Better to betray his friend then suffer a Prophet's wrath. They're on top for a reason.

"Kill the Demons! I don't care how you do it, just kill them!"

* * *

Grif and Donut cheered in victory as one of the last Phantoms crashed into the ocean. The Covenant on the temple continued to fire at the Pelican, trying desperately to finish them off. The mechanical clicker of Simmons-dolphin was heard before the cyborg shot up into the air. The Covenant ground troops then focused their fire on the maroon dolphin.

"Simmons, gun mode!" The dolphin started to shrink and transform simultaneously, revealing Sarge flying through the air. Finally, Simmons 2.0 settled into the form of a large pistol in Sarge's hand. "Uncle Megatron be proud!"

Sarge began firing a massive energy blast down upon the Covenant. The rounds that were fired were slightly larger than concussive blasts, and twice as devastating. Sarge continued to fall towards the ground, firing at the Covenant forces. One Grunt with a fuel rod ran up and aimed at the sky.

"Fire in the hole!" The tiny alien fired a blast upward.

"Shield mode," Sarge shouted. Simmons converted into a massive shield. Sarge moved Simmons out in front of him, taking the full force of the blast. The Red commander spun around, holding Simmons high above his head. "Big sword mode!" Simmons once again transformed just as Sarge swung downward. The Grunt raised the fuel rod to try and shield itself, but the weapon was sliced through like butter.

An Elite charged forward, activating an energy sword. Sarge swung his Simmons-blade, knocking the Elite's attack to the side in one swing, and then cleaving its head off in another. Sarge spun around, turning Simmons into a shield again as he blocked a series of plasma blasts. A Grunt jumped on his back, shouting and sputtering angrily. Sarge tried to wrestle the tiny alien off his back, but to no avail. Finally, the Red Spartan activated his jetpack, flying up into the air. The Grunt cried and screamed in fear. Sarge turned his jetpack off and started falling towards the temple again, with the Grunt positioned to break his fall.

"OH SHI-," the Grunt's final word was cut off by the sickening splat noise from being crushed by Sarge's bodyweight.

Sarge rolled forward, punching a Jackal across the face and then throwing an uppercut that launched the bird off its feet. Sarge grabbed the Jackal's foot before it hit the ground, spun around twice and then hurled it at an Elite standing towards the ledge of the temple. The Jackal hit the Elite in the chest, throwing both aliens off the ledge and to their watery grave.

Sarge looked up, seeing an Elite with an energy sword pulled back and about ready to stab him. The Red Spartan stepped quickly to the side as the alien thrusted its sword forward, "Stab—oh god da-," Sarge held his Megatron-Simmons-pistol out and blasted the Elite's head off.

Sarge placed a hand on his hip and lowered his Simmons-pistol to his side. The Red commander took in the devastation and corpses around him. Sarge huffed quietly then tossed Simmons in the air.

"Default setting." The pistol suddenly expanded and transformed into a maroon Spartan. Simmons landed on his feet, but stumbled around like a drunken fool.

"Wh-whoa. Wh-what happened…?"

"We're at the temple, and the Prophet is inside," Sarge stated. "I'm gonna need every man, cyborg, feminine weirdo, and Grif I can get to help take him down."

"Speaking of which, where are Grif and Donut?" Sarge looked up and pointed to the sky. Simmons turned around, following Sarge's finger. "Oh…"

Grif and Donut screamed as their Pelican was out of control, smashing through a heavily damaged Phantom. The Pelican was now beaten to hell, on fire, covered _in_ fire, and crashing towards the temple.

"Simmons…"

"Yes sir…?"

"Move." Sarge and Simmons turned and ran towards the entrance of the temple, screaming in fear as the Pelican came crashing down on them. Grif and Donut dove out of the cockpit and onto the temple grounds while the Pelican fell to the ocean in a smoking heap.

"Grif, what the hell did you do to our ship," Sarge shouted.

"It's…" Grif panted heavily, trying to steady his nerves to get onto his feet, "It's a rental…"

"Yeah, but how're we gonna get off this damn temple jackass," Simmons shouted.

"Fuck…you…"

"Uh…guys," Donut murmured. The Reds looked over at the pink Spartan who was staring at the sky. "L-look…" Donut's trembling arm moved up to the sky. The Reds looked up, seeing hundreds of Covenant ships jumping out of slip-space, high above Halo's atmosphere.

"That's the largest Covenant fleet I've seen," Cortana murmured. "The largest _anyone's_ ever seen…" Just then, another object came out of slip-space. It was larger than any cruiser or carrier, and sort of looked like an ice-cream cone. "Get inside, kill Regret before it has a chance to stop us!" The Reds wasted no time and rushed into the temple.

The Prophet of Regret frowned, waiting for the doors to open and the Demons to enter. Around the Prophet were countless Honor Guards, all ready to give their lives for their master. Or to die if Regret is angry enough.

"Yoo-hoo," a heavily accented voice called out. All eyes snapped forward, seeing a Red Spartan walk through the doors. "You must be the Prophet of Ugliness. No wait, that's your mother. Sorry."

"You filthy vermin! You dare desecrate this sacred place and insult my mother!"

"Am I wrong?"

"YES! My mother was the Prophet of Bitchiness! You're a fool for coming to this place Demon! I outnumber you, and your other cowering vermin allies! You cannot win!" Suddenly, two grunts were heard, followed by the two Honor Guards standing by Regret's side being tackled and roaring in shock.

Grif stabbed the Elite in the neck, just below the jaw. Simmons blasted his alien in the head with a pistol. Both Spartans moved to attack the Prophet.

"FOOLS!" Regret slammed his hands on the arms of his throne, unleashing a plasma pulse that sent Grif and Simmons flying. Regret spun around, realizing all his Honor Guards were dead. "How did you-,"

"Private Donut," Sarge proudly stated, "he's the sneakiest soldier ever. He could sneak up anyone's rear. There's no backdoor he can get through. He'd make a fine rear admiral. He-,"

"I get it already. I'll kill you fools myself!"

"Donut, now!" Regret looked up, seeing a pink Spartan falling from the sky.

"Sneak attack!" Donut threw two plasma grenades down at the Prophet. Regret once again used his plasma pulse that caused the grenades to explode instantly. Donut crossed his arms over his face to shield himself from the blast residue. Once through the smoke, the pink Spartan latched onto Regret's throne.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Regret started flying away in an attempt to shake Donut off his high-horse. Donut threw a punch, socking Regret across the jaw. The Prophet cried out before backhanding Donut with enough force to knock out a bull. The pink Spartan was thrown back, screaming before he smacked into the back wall. "You damned filthy pigs! You dare to lay even a single hand on me?"

Suddenly, Sarge rushed forward, screaming as he leapt upward, grabbing the cannon on Regret's chair. The Prophet flew up, spinning around and around in an attempt to try and throw the sergeant off.

"Grif, Simmons, you need to destroy this chair!"

"What the," Simmons murmured as he scraped himself off the ground.

"H-how the hell are we supposed to do that?"

"Simmons, laser cannon-chest!"

"Sir, what're you talking about?" Little did Simmons realize that his chest started to part, opening up to reveal a giant cannon. On his back came out two handles, each with a trigger to fire.

"I got this," Grif shouted, grabbing Simmons' back-handles.

"H-hey, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Firin ma laser!" Grif pressed down on both triggers, unleashing a devastating blast towards the Prophet of Regret.

The wrinkled alien jerked to the side and pulled up. The laser narrowly missed Sarge, who was still clinging for dear life. "Hit the alien numb-nuts! NOT ME!"

"Simmons 2.0 keeps moving too much," Grif shouted.

"How'd this laser get in my chest?"

Grif fired the laser again, this time skimming Regret's chair. The blast caused the floating throne to spin out of control, crashing towards the ground. Sarge let go and rolled just as he hit the ground. Regret screamed angrily and jumped out as well just before the throne crashed and went off in an enormous explosion.

"Sarge," Cortana said in a warning tone, "Phantoms are inbound, too many for me to track. We don't have anymore time!"

"You damned dirty demons," Regret thundered. "Do you have any idea how much that throne costs?"

"I dunno, five…five, maybe ten dollars," Grif asked. "Who the fuck cares, you're done for dude."

In the blink of an eye, Regret spun around, throwing a plasma grenade at Simmons and Grif. The duo cried out and dove to the side as the grenade went off between them. The two Spartans flew apart and crashed into the pillars.

Regret turned back to Sarge, who was now a foot away with his fist cocked back. Regret ducked under the punch and threw Sarge over his shoulder and onto the ground. Sarge grunted as he nearly broke the floor. The Spartan quickly got back up and threw a kick at Regret's neck. The lanky alien blocked and threw a punch at Sarge. The Spartan knocked the blow to the side and poked one of Regret's eyes.

"Ah, damn it!" Sarge punched Regret across the face twice before delivering a straight which knocked the Prophet on his back.

Regret roared as he pulled out a plasma pistol, already fully charged, and then fired. Sarge jerked his upper body back, narrowly avoiding the plasma blast. Regret got up to his feet, bashing the pistol over Sarge's helmet. Though the blow knocked the Spartan on his hands and knees, it completely broke the pistol.

"Wait," Cortana murmured. "The Phantoms are pulling back now. Why in the world would they do that?"

Regret grabbed Sarge's neck with both hands and began squeezing down with surprising strength. Sarge gasped for air, much to the pleasure of Regret. Finally, the Red commander head-butted Regret, disorienting the alien into letting him go. Sarge got back up and threw a punch which Regret caught surprisingly easy. Regret roared as he spun around, pulling Sarge off his feet before he hurled him into the nearest wall. Chunks of rock broke off from the wall as Sarge hit the floor.

"Great Scott Pilgrim's ghost, how is this alien so tough?"

"There's a reason the Prophets are in charge of the Covenant," Regret boasted. "Sure we have advanced technology and a better understanding of the Forerunners, but what's to stop the Elites from just killing us and taking all that?"

"Why can't anything ever be easy," Sarge groaned as he rose to his feet. "Like insulting Gif. Or coming up with new ways to make Grif suffer horrible pain. Like Grifball. Those were all easy."

"Get ready to die Demons!" Suddenly, a firm hand grasped Regret's long neck. The alien was spun around, facing a pink Spartan who immediately started to punch him in the face.

Donut screamed with every punch, exerting more and more force behind each blow. Simmons and Grif only watched in awe as Donut violently pounded Regret's face in. Sarge's jaw hit the bottom of his helmet as Donut savagely beat Regret into a bloody pulp. Finally, after a few moments of nonstop punching, Donut released the heavily beaten Regret, letting his limp form hit the ground.

"You scuffed my lightish red armor you son of a bitch!"

"Whoa Donut," Grif shouted.

"What the hell," Simmons added.

"Do you guys see that? He scuffed my armor!"

"Guy gentlemen," Cortana said over all their comms, "And I use that term loosely, we need to get out of here. Right now! There's a Covenant cruiser outside the temple and they're going to destroy this whole place just to get rid of us!"

"Sweet double-O-hio, BOOK IT!" The Reds ran towards the exit at full speed.

Regret groaned as he slowly drifted back into consciousness. Looking up, he saw the Demons running away, "That's right you…filthy pigs…run before the might of Regret…" Suddenly, a series of tentacles wrapped around the Prophet. Regret looked at the limbs constricting around him before snapping his head back up. "Oh son of a-," Regret was forcefully yanked back, letting out a terrified shriek of terror as he was pulled into the darkness.

Sarge charged outside first, stopping for a brief moment to look up. Sure enough: a Covenant cruiser was charging its main cannon. The Reds continued to run along the side of the temple just as the cruiser fired. They continued running down a walkway before they had to jump to a lower level. Without hesitation, they all jumped and landed, losing only a second before they moved forward. The beam was catching up to them, but the ledge was a stone's throw away.

"We're not gonna make it," Grif shouted. Sarge quickly booted Grif forward, causing the orange Spartan to stumble forward and off the ledge. Simmons jumped first, screaming the whole way down. Donut jumped off and pulled his legs up to his body to perform a cannonball. Sarge simply dove off, spinning around once before he hit the water.

The Spartans were unconscious, drifting downward into the ocean. Soon, a group of tentacles came out of the depths of the ocean floor, gently wrapping around the Spartans' bodies.

"_**This is not your grave…"**_ A voice spoke lowly, followed by a strange snarl. _**"But you are welcome in it…"**_ The tentacles started to gently pull the Spartans further into the ocean, towards the creature's lair, where their fate would be decided.

**

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So…let me first start by apologizing. Things kind of sucked these last couple of months. Finals were a bitch, and studying for them was oh-so time consuming. I know finals aren't two months long, but there was some other shit mixed in with it. I'm sorry for not updating sooner, but now there's good old Christmas break. Hopefully I can get another chapter off before I have to go back to school for you guys, but do remember I have like four or five other stories. Again, I'm so sorry for not updating sooner, but don't think I've abandoned this story. I would never do that without legitimate reasons. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope it wasn't rushed. Twenty two pages long, but I've had longer chapters feel rushed.**

**Leave a review please =)**


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